


Merlin and the Holy Grail

by AstratheCatha



Category: Merlin (TV), Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975)
Genre: Because it is Monty Python, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack, Crack Crossover, Gen, Magic Revealed, Merlin ends up in Monty Python, Merlin messes up a spell and gets transported to a magical land, Merlin only slightly understands what is going on, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-02 17:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4068463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstratheCatha/pseuds/AstratheCatha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I really should be more careful with how I pronounce the words of the old religion. But in my defense, how was I supposed to know that there was a one letter difference between the word for lake and the word for world. All I wanted to do was go visit my girlfriend at her lake. And the next thing I know, I am standing on a path through a forest that I don’t recognize with two men who looked like they were doing some weird skipping-hop-thing coming towards me; one of which was smashing what looked like two hairy bowls together.</p><p>Or the one where Merlin ends up in the middle of Monty Python and the Holy Grail after a spell gone wrong...</p><p>Or the Merlin-Monty Python crossover you never knew you wanted but you did secretly want it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What are coconuts?

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue, and I mean absolutely no clue as how this idea popped into my head. One minute I was playing pool with my friends and the next I knew this amazing fic idea came into my head and my friend was practically begging for me to write it. And so this slightly awesome but mostly crazy fic was born. This is going to be a long one. I am only 1/3 of the way done and already have 15,000 words. So bear with me. And in my defense, I am doing the entire movie (with the exception of the credits. Its a written work; they don't have credits.
> 
> I don't own Merlin, Monty Python and any of the characters thus far (I might add an OC, I don't know)
> 
> And with out further ado: Merlin and the Holy Grail by AstratheCatha inspired by Merlin and Monty Python and the Holy Grail. *Page turns*
> 
> S

I only have five hours. I have time right? If I use a spell, I can get there and back before Arthur even knows I am gone. Having made up my mind, I grabbed the spell book out from under my bed. Of course, it wouldn't have the spell I need, but if I just put the word for travel together with the word for lake and concentrate really hard, it should work, right? I mean I have saved Arthur with less. 

I closed my eyes and concentrated on conjuring and image of the lake and its surrounding land in my head. I tried to keep the image in my mind, but the image of the evil, killer rabbits that Arthur tried to convince me were real kept popping up in my mind. Deciding that it was close enough and that the worst thing that could happen was that I accidentally bring an evil, killer bunny to Freya’s lake with me (and I could totally handle an evil, killer bunny), I said the spell.

I felt the magic hum and flood through my body. I didn't dare open my eyes until I felt the magic settle. It didn't feel like I was by the lake. There was a certain feeling that my magic got whenever I was near the lake, like it was in harmony with the shores of Avalon. And it didn't feel that way. Deciding to face the truth that my magic failed and I was stuck in Camelot, I slowly opened one of my eyes. And I was definitely not in Camelot. At all.

I was on an unfamiliar road in an unfamiliar forest. And I knew all of the forests in Camelot by heart at this point. Which is too be expected given how many adventures, quests, hunting trips gone horribly wrong that King Prat has dragged me on. I looked behind me to confirm that yes I was completely lost.

I decided not to use magic to get me back to Camelot. For one, I really didn't know how the spell went wrong. For all I know, I am in Camelot, but I just turned it into a giant forest. And two, that would be too easy. I never do things the easy way.

I was just about to pick a direction to walk (I was going to close by eyes and spin in a circle until I became dizzy and walk that direction), when I saw two men walking towards me. Although, I hesitate to call that walking. It was more of a weird skip-hop thing that was kind of funny and slightly crazy. One of the two men was obviously a knight (or possibly a king. That might have been a crown, although it was one that he had never seen before) complete with armor and a sword at his hip. The crest stitched onto his tunic was some kind of sun with a face on it. It was definitely not a crest that I recognize. The other was obviously a servant. He had rougher, poorer quality of clothes and was carrying a large wooden contraption that seemed to hold all of their gear in it. Does no one respect their servants! Oh and he was rhythmically clacking two brown half-spheres in his hand (in their defense, it did sound rather remarkably like horses hooves only on stone, not dirt). Upon seeing me, the knight/king raised one of his hands and called for a stop. The two slowed their skip-hop and the servant changed the rhythm of the clapping to sound like houses slowing down. Again on stone, not dirt.

“Good Sir, what is your name.” Wait? I still had my servant’s garb on, correct? Because there was no way for this man to think that I was a knight if I had my servant’s garb on. Nope, still in my usual blue tunic, brown trousers, and red neckerchief. So this person is stupider than Arthur. That is a first.

“Oh, I’m not a knight. My name is Merlin, and I seem to be lost. Umm… Could you tell me where I am, or the way back to Camelot?” The knight/king looked at the surrounding forest before replying.

“Ah, good Sir. You are on a road in a forest (not helpful). I am headed towards Camelot myself, after a few stops along the way. I am looking for brave Knights to join me at the court of Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table. You may follow me until we reach our destination.” Knights of the Round Table? Why would anybody name their knight the Knights of the Round Table? I mean, yes, Arthur hold council meetings at a round table, but even he isn't stupid enough to name his Knights after it. They are the Knight of Camelot. The table has nothing to do with it. And last I checked there were no Knights of the Round Table in Camelot and I had never seen this man there before. I at least know all the faces that have entered Camelot, if not the name associated with it. You have to if you are constantly being attacked by random people who just walk into Camelot demanding an audience with a king who has absolutely no self-preservation instinct at all.

“Umm… Ok. Umm. Who are you?” Because I realized that one, I was about to go on a potentially long journey with a stranger who seems completely crazy. I should at least learn his name. And two, this guy might actually kill me.

“I am Arthur, son of Uthur Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot, king of the Britons, defeater of the Saxons, sovereign of all England. And this is my trusted servant Patsy.” It took me a moment to comprehend everything he was saying before I burst out laughing. I laughed until I had tears in my eyes and an ache I my stomach. The two men looked at each other, before turning back towards me, completely confused.

“Are you all right, good sir?”

“I am not a knight, and you are definitely not King Arthur, who never defeated the Saxons and is definitely not sovereign of all of England.” The thought of it made me burst out laughing again. The man was delusional at best, a fraud at worst.

“But, good Sir, I am Arthur, son of Uther Pendragon, from the castle of-“ 

“Yeah yeah. I am the King’s manservant and the prat is definitely not you. So how about we both move on to your real name, so I can go back to serving said Prat.” Both of them looked completely confused, like they didn't know how to reply.

“But I-“ it was obvious that I was going to get no where with this man, so I interrupted him before he could start on his whole speech again.

“Ok, fine, whatever. Can we just go?” Both men looked at each other and shrugged. Then they proceeded to continue skip-hopping forward, the servant clacking his… Whatever those were. I just shook my head and walked behind the two of them. Today was going to be a long day.

About fifteen minutes and an oddly foggy plain later, they came across a lone castle. Just the castle. No surrounding town, farms, or any sign of habitation. Going straight up to the outer wall Not-Arthur called for a halt, and the two stopped whatever weird action they were performing. I decided to stay a few feet back, just for safe measure.

“Who goes there?” A man called. I looked up to see a man standing on top of the wall. Who starts a conversation from the top of a really tall wall? They didn't look to be near the gate? I was beginning to question the sanity of everyone in the area.

“It is I, Arthur, son of Uthur Pendragon, from the castle of Camelot, king of the Britons, defeater of the Saxons, sovereign of all England.” Does he say that whole thing every time he introduces himself? It seems to be a little too long winded. Not even Uther said that much.

“Bull the other one?” The man called down. The other two look at each other. At least someone knows that this man is not Arthur.

“I am. And this is my servant Patsy. We have ridden the length and breadth of the land in search of knights who wish to join me at my court in Camelot. I must speak to your lord and master.” Seriously! He is just going to let anybody become his knights. That is just plain stupid; even I know better than that. I may be for less strict rules, but not for no rules.

“What, ridden on a horse?” So someone finally pointed that out. It is about time. I had to cough to cover up my laugh. No one seemed to notice however.

“Yes!” Not-Arthur and Patsy looked at each other confused, as if it was obvious they were riding horses that were not there.

“You’re using coconuts!” What?

“What?” Not-Arthur unintentionally mimic my thought. What in the name of the Triple-Goddess are coconuts? 

“You’ve got two empty halves of a coconut and you’re bangin’ ‘em together.” What are coconuts!

“So? We have ridden since the snows of winter covered this land, through the kingdom of Mercia, through—“ Wait, snows of winter? Who speaks like that? And who is running the castle and apparently really large empire if their king has been gone for two and a half seasons? Nobody blinked an eye at it. Are all these people just that crazy?

“Where did you get the coconut?” Really, that the question you decide to go with? That was the least important question. And somebody tell me what a coconut is!

“Somebody tell me what a coconut is!” I voiced my thoughts after I reached my limit of not knowing what is going on. Arthur would be proud that I waited this long.

“These are coconuts.” Not-Arthur stated proudly, gesturing to the brown, half-spheres in Patsy’s (who names their child that, seriously. I thought Merlin was bad enough) hand. 

“Yes, but what are those?” Really did they use their brain for anything?

“They are coconuts.” I don't even have a response for that.

“Yes, but what are they? Are they man-made? Are they food?” Do I have to spell it out?

“That hardly matters at this point? What matters is where they got them?” Bloody… I will kill someone! With magic! In public!

“We found them.” Seriously, you found these strange objects and you decide to bang them together! Well, I guess I'm not much better. There was that goblin incident that will never be mentioned again.

“Found them? In Mercia? But the coconut is tropical!” Really, is he just making up terms now? What is tropical?

“What do you mean?” Not-Arthur asked, still confused. I was beginning to believe this was his one of his few facial expressions.

“I agree with him.” I remark, because it was true. But only in this case. Everything else is doubtful.

“Well this is a temperate zone.”

“Because that explains it. Now I know how Arthur feels when I give nonsense answers like it explains it all.” No one seemed to be paying attention anymore.

“The swallow may fly south with the sun or the house Martin or the plumber may seek warmer climates in the winter, yet these are not stranger to our land.” That was… Surprisingly serious, poetic and actually made sense.

“Are you suggesting coconuts migrate?” Well why these two seem content to discuss this with a thirty foot difference between the two of them, I was finding this completely boring. I started to look down the wall to see if I could find the gate inside. But there was nothing.

“Not at all. They could be carried.” Really, this is the most important conversation at this point. 

“What – a swallow carrying a coconut!?!” Really? That is the most unbelievable part of this conversation. I pride myself in my ability to act stupid and come up with sarcastic, unbelievable answers and even that is too far.

“It could grip it by the husk.” Oh look, a word I actually understand. They are learning!

“It's not a question of where he grips it. It is a simple question of weight ratios. A five ounce bird cannot carry a one pound coconut!” Oh, wait, this actually seems interesting. 

"Well… It doesn't matter. Will you go and tell your master that Arthur from the Court of Camelot is her?” 

"Shhh. I want to hear his argument.” Not-Arthur just glared at me.

“Listen, in order to maintain air-speed velocity, a swallow must beat its wings 43 times every second?” The guard asked.

“Yes, but what does that have to do with the weight a swallow?” I replied, actually interested in the argument for once.

“Please.” Oh, look an Arthur who actually asks politely. 

“Obviously, if the coconut weight is added than the swallow would have to beat its wings more frequently. And it can only beat its wings so many times per second.”

“True, and I imagine that it wouldn't beat its wings as much once it got tired.” I replied, after think for a few seconds.

“It could be carried by an African swallow?” Chimed in another guard. He did have a point. Not that I knew what an African swallow was or how it differed from the usual swallow.

“Oh, yeah, an African swallow maybe, but not an European swallow. That's my point.” Now wait a minute.

“Why does it have to be an European swallow. It could have been a larger bird.” I voiced my opinion, a little miffed. 

“Well, he said it was a swallow.” The first guard said, pointing towards Arthur, who staring exasperated at us all.

“No he didn't. He nearly stated that the swallow was migratory. He also implied that the coconut may have been carried by a migratory bird. He never said it had to be a swallow.” This seemed to stump the guard, because it was a while before he replied. 

“But African swallows are not migratory.”

“Oh yeah.” Mumble-yelled the second guard.

“Again with the swallows. Is there no other migratory birds that are large enough to carry the coconut?” Everyone involved thought for a moment until one of the spoke up.

“There is the pomarine skua!” The second guard shouted.

“Well there you go. Not-Arthur, we solved your mystery!” I said, turning to flash one of my trademark grins. Wait, where is Not-Arthur?

“Not-Arthur?” I scratched my head and looked around, as if he would appear out of nowhere.

“Oh, so he isn't Arthur. I knew it!” The first guard shouted.

“What? No he is Arthur. I think. Or at least an Arthur. There seems to be more than one. My current theory is an alternate area of existence that exists beyond my own land. A kind of repeated existence that slightly differs from my own. If you travel to the long enough in one direction you will eventually get to my world. Or at least another world.”

“Oh, that make sense. What is your name wise one?”

“Um, Merlin. Although, I wouldn't exactly call myself wise.” The man simply nodded his head and disappeared behind the wall. After a moment or two I ran off in the direction I assumed Arthur had hop-skipped. In the distance I could have sworn that I heard someone shout “Bring out your dead!”


	2. I'm not dead!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next chapter. It isn't in Merlin's point of view because I really couldn't fit Merlin into this chapter without it being really awkward. So I'll go right ahead and say I am sorry. 
> 
> I need your (the few readers I have) opinion: I am thinking of adding another Merlin character. I know it isn't going to be Arthur. I was thinking one of the knights: Gwaine or Lancelot maybe. What do you think? Do you have a preference?
> 
> I do not Merlin or Monty Python: I don't care nearly enough for logical fallacies for Monty Python and the concept that Merlin could be young was mind blowing when I first watched Merlin.

In a nearby town, three men, dressed in rags, were pulling and pushing a cart, filled with dead bodies. Beside them a finer dressed man was walking, clanging a triangle.

“Bring out your dead!” He said loudly to the crowd around him. Two men were tumbling around in the mud, each trying to kill the other.

“Bring out your dead!” An old woman was crawling on the ground, coughing, and ignored by everyone else. 

“Bring out your dead!” A person was whimpering and trying to crawl inside a basket. Only his rear was sticking out. The two fighting men rolled past the basket case and the cart.

“Bring out your dead!” They stopped for a moment to allow people to load more dead bodies onto the cart. When the patrons left, the three men grunted and started the cart moving once more. 

“Bring out your dead!” An old woman passed in front of the cart, repeatedly hitting something against the ground. Another one was hitting a cat against the side of the wall.

“Bring out your dead!” In the distance, a young child was beating his head against the side of a house, blood was dripping into his eyes.

“Bring out your dead!” The cart slowed to a stop as a man walked towards them, carrying a body over his shoulder. The dead collector stopped banging and shouting as he took in the large man.

“Here is one.” The man said. The body on his shoulder lifted his head and tried to get the attention of the dead collector.

“Nine-pence.” The dead collector stated, after glancing at the body. The body lifted its head, and spoke up.

“I’m not dead.” The dead collector looked a little shocked and jerked his head toward the body.

“What-”

“Nothing. Here is your nine-pence.” The large man quickly interrupted. He handed the man a coin. 

“I’m not dead!” The body insisted, sounding a little annoyed.

“‘Ere. He says he’s not dead.” The dead collector stated, motioning to the not-so-dead body.

“Yes he is.” The large man replied quickly, holding out the coin again. 

“I’m not.” The not-dead man insisted, lifting his body up a little more.

“He isn’t.” The dead collector insisted.

“He will be soon. He is very ill.” The large man replied. The not-dead man tried to swing his arm towards the man’s face, either in an attempt to hit the man or prove that his is still alive, but failed.

“I’m getting better!” The body insisted.

“No you’re not. You will be stone dead in a few minutes.” The large man quickly replied and tried to hand the coin to the dead collector again.

“I can’t take him like that, it is against regulations.” Said the dead collector, looking at the cart before returning to the two men.

“I don’t want to go into the cart.” The not-so-dead man insisted, sounding almost like a petulant child.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” Said the large man, looking back at his load.

“I can’t take him.” The dead collector repeated.

“I feel fine.” Said the not-dead man, trying to sound convincing. He really didn’t look that sick.

“Well, do us a favor.” The big man said, sounding exasperated. 

“I can’t.” The dead collector insisted, annoyance clear in his voice.

“Well, can you stick around for a few more minutes? He won’t be long.” The large man asked, still holding out the coin. 

“I promised I would be at the Robinson’s. They lost nine today.” He said, more sorry than annoyed at this point. He motioned in the direction that they were heading. 

“Well, when is your next round?” The large man asked.

“Thursday.”

“I think I am going for a walk.” The old man, who was still alive, cut in, lifting himself up once again.

“You’re not fooling anyone.” The large man said while shaking his head at the old man. “Look, isn’t there something that you could do.” He had stopped holding out the coin and returned his hand to a hold on the old man’s leg.

“I feel happy. I feel happy.” The old man started singing in an unknown rhythm. The dead collector looked around the road as the large man turned around. Then the dead collector raised his club/mallet (depending on how you looked at it. It really could be either one) and knocked the old man unconscious. 

“Ah, thanks very much.” Said the large man in relief after he heard he last grunt of the old man. He turned and deposited the body into the cart. 

“Not at all. See you on Thursday.” The dead collector replied as if nothing was wrong. 

“Right.” They both look up to see all of the other village people on their knees as a knight and his servant went ridding by, without horses or course. There was also another man, one of the noble man folks by the look of his cloths. But he was walking, instead of riding. He also looked horrified by what he saw. The dead collector also noted that he was particularly staring of the two of them and decided it was best if they just ignored him.

“Who’s that then?” Asked the large man watching the three of them go by.

“I dunno. Must be the king.” The dead collector replied, switching his gaze between the retreating king and the large man beside him.

“Why?”

“Because he doesn’t have shit all over him.” He said simply and went back to work, ringing his triangle to get everyone’s attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think. Huh. Huh. You should totally review. It helps me feel like I have accomplished something, and you have done your random act of kindness... do people even do that anymore? Oh well. Hope you enjoyed!


	3. I'm being repressed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, sorry that I am late. I completely forgot yesterday was Wednesday until my dad kindly informed me today was Thursday. But here is the next chapter of Merlin and the Holy Grail. 
> 
> It's kind of long at 2,000+ words for this chapter but think of it as payment for being late.
> 
> And I am tired so I don't have much else to say so I am just going to let you read now.

I couldn’t get over what I saw in that village. Everyone was so horribly sick. And what those two guys were talking about… it gave me shivers. How could they talk so carelessly about killing someone? Or even the death of others. And Not-Arthur and Patsy didn’t even blink twice at everything. I truly believe that everyone in this town is crazy. I couldn’t take my thoughts off of what was happening in that village until Not-Arthur slowed to a stop in front of some villagers, who looked to be trying to till the land with their hands and a twig. He “rode” up to a man pulling a wagon towards a castle in the distance.

“Old woman.” I had to stop myself from face-palming. Wait… face-palming? Oh great, the stupidity is contagious. 

“Man.” Said the man, turning his hand to face Not-Arthur. He sounded almost annoyed, as if this wasn’t the first time this had happened. Which I could see. He did kind of look like a woman, what with the head scarf, and you know… his face. 

“Man, sorry. Old man, what knight lives in that castle over there?” Really, Not-Arthur is kind of a horrible king. He doesn’t even know what knight lives where in his own kingdom. I understand that Not-Arthur does have a much larger kingdom than Arthur does, which I still don’t understand given that he is one of the few people who has less intelligence than the King Prat himself, but still, he should at least have some idea as to who lived in that castle. 

“I’m 37.” Oh great, no we will never know who is in that castle. Not-Arthur just had to go and insult him twice. Well great. Even my Arthur is better at not offending people than this one seems to be, and my Arthur is pretty offensive. At least he is getting there.

“What?” Really.

“I’m 37… I’m not old.” The man said indignantly. 

“Well, the average life expectancy at this time period is 30 at birth, so you could be considered old. But seeing as you are over the age of 21, your life expectancy almost doubled. But that does put you up there in age. However, I do not believe you are so far older than Not-Arthur to be considered old.” What the- bloody hell. How, in the name of the triple goddess, did I know that information? And what is “this time period”? Oh goddess! It becoming serious. I have to get out of here as fast as possible. Or I could become as stupid as everyone here!

“Well- I can’t just call you man.” Not-Arthur brought me out of my thoughts. Really, you could just ask his name.

“Well, you could just say “Dennis”.” Wait, is there someone here who is not as stupid as the rest of them?

“Well, I didn’t know you were called Dennis.” Arthur said, like that excused him of everything.

“You could have asked.” I stated, because really. It was kind of obvious.

“Yeah, you never even bothered to find out.” The man replied as if Not-Arthur was trying to insult him on purpose, instead of being an idiot.

“I said I was sorry about the old woman, but from behind you looked like-” I didn’t think that was really what this was about. I know Not-Arthur didn’t pick up on it, but this seemed more than just being called old and a woman.

“What I object to is that you automatically treat me like an inferior!” It surprised me that they could continue all this without stopping. Back in my land everything would have had to stop so we can have this long conversation. It was kind of annoying because I had to split my focus between the conversation and looking at where I am going.

“Well, I am king.” Oh, look. Not-Arthur and Arthur actually share something in common: the belief that being royalty automatically makes them better than everyone else. But at least my Arthur is getting better. This one looks like he will never understand.

“You do realize that is no excuse, right?” I ask, actually curious. Not-Arthur just looked at me like I told him that the entire world is just a dream and he doesn’t actually exist. Which could actually be true.

“Oh king, eh, very nice. An' how'd you get that, eh? By exploitin' the workers -- by 'angin' on to outdated imperialist dogma which perpetuates the economic an' social differences in our society! If there's ever going to be any progress—“ Dennis said as he dropped his cart to point a finger towards Not-Arthur. Ok, yeah, I think that the nobility should be taken down a notch… but that is going too far. 

“Dennis, there's some lovely filth down here. Oh -- how d'you do?” Said a… man? Possibly… he was dressed like a woman and spoke with a higher pitch of voice. Anyway the person of unknown gender said as s/he crawled across the ground. 

“How do you do, good lady. I am Arthur, King of the Britons. Whose castle is that?” Well s/he didn’t seem offended at being called a woman so I think it is the preferred term to be used. But she differently looked like a guy. Hey, who was he to judge. There was that incident with the dress he was sneaking out to Freya. 

“King of the who?” The woman asked, as Dennis grudgingly made his way towards her.

“The Britons.” He stated as if that answered it all. I really should apologize to Arthur for all of the ambiguous statements.

“Who are the Britons?” That was a good question. Not-Arthur kept saying that he was king of the Britons, but who were the Britons. I guessed that they were what this plane of existence (Or where ever the hell I am) called citizens of Camelot. 

“Well, we all are. We’re all Britons and I am your king.” Because that explains everything. I mean, even I am better at explaining things than that. And yes I do understand that I don’t always explain things well. Did you think that was an accident? No, I do that on purpose. But I know when to stop.

“I didn't know we had a king. I thought we were an autonomous collective.” How can you not know who ruled you? I don’t know whether to blame this on the stupidity of the woman or the bad rule of Not-Arthur. It was probably a little bit of both.

“You're fooling yourself. We're living in a dictatorship. A self-perpetuating autocracy in which the working classes—“ Seriously? What was this guy? Some sort of radical?

“Oh there you go, bringing class into it again.” So, I am not the only one who is exasperated with him.

“What are you trying to do? Create anarchy?” I ask, a little incredulous. 

“That's what it's all about if only people would-” Seriously!

“Please, please good people. I am in haste. Who lives in that castle?” Fine, I give up on Not-Arthur’s ability to rule. His people are considering anarchy in front of him and he doesn’t even care!

“No one lives there.” So there is a castle where no one lives… that is actually kind of normal. Huh.

“Then who is your lord?” I want to strangle him. With my bare hands. I do not even think Uther was this stupid. And he broke several records. 

“We don't have a lord.”

“What?” Is it that incredulous? I mean peasants are perfectly capable of ruling themselves.

“I told you. We're an anarcho-syndicalist commune. We take it in turns to act as a sort of executive officer for the week.” Hmm… that would work, but I don’t see how anything could get done. By the time you have thought the decision through and draft up the decision you have to leave the post. Either nothing is getting done or anything that does happen is not thought through.

“Yes.” Said Arthur, although it looked like he didn’t quite agree with the statement. 

“But all the decisions of that officer have to be ratified at a special biweekly meeting.” No, that is definitely not enough time to come to a complete and thought-out decision. 

"Now wait a minute. That is not very efficient. Nothing would ever get done unless it was a rushed decision.”

“What’s wrong with that?” the woman asked, truly confused. 

“It is a rushed decision that started the rule of kings in the first place” Or so I hope. I really wasn’t paying attention when Gaius, Geoffrey, or Hunith were trying to teach me history.

“Well then, what would you suggest?” Dennis asked, seeming a little indignant. 

“Well if you have a village council made up of five members of the villages, elected by the people at a yearly basis, then you have a rotating membership, time to plan and think through the decision, and each member of the council checks the other members of the council to help prevent corruption.”

“Yes, I see.” Not-Arthur said. Although, in my opinion, he looked more confused than like he understood. Or paying attention. I couldn’t really tell at this point. Although, I am hoping it is the latter. What does it say about the world when someone is that stupid? We were practically committing treason in front of him, for Goddess sake!

“Now wait a minute! We aren’t radicals here.” Dennis quickly said. My eyebrows shot up in disbelief. It gave a moment to enjoy the fact that I probably look a lot like Gaius. 

“Be quiet!” Not-Arthur yelled, trying to get our attention. We all ignored him.

“You just said that you wanted anarchy! Compared to that, my idea cannot be considered radical.” I exclaim, seriously trying to understand these people. Because, I really couldn’t

“Be quiet! I order you to be quiet!” Really, Not-Arthur. That really isn’t going to work in this situation.

"Order, eh -- who does he think he is?” Asked the woman. I really need to ask her name.

“I am your king!”

“Umm. Not-Arthur? Maybe you want to rethink you stance on that.” I really hope this doesn’t end in a fight. I hate fights, which are not to be confused with bickering, debates, or brawls. I know, Gwaine and I decided on the difference.

“Well, I didn't vote for you.” The woman stated, waggling her finger at Not-Arthur like Mom did when she was chastising me. The semblance was quite creepy, you know, except for the whole looking like a man (who was he to judge on a person’s life styles) and radical viewpoints. Granted, I don’t know how Mo would react if she had to live in squalor like this.

“You don't vote for kings.” I don’t see this going anywhere good anytime soon.

“Well, 'ow did you become king then?” Dennis asked. 

“Well, you see when a king and a queen need a hair, they wish really hard and they get a baby prince from the prince swallow, and then this prince grows up and takes his father’s throne, becoming a king.” I said, which, for once in this god forsaken land, got me three glares. 

“The Lady of the Lake,” Not-Arthur started as a choir started singing out of nowhere. “her arm clad in the purest shimmering samite, held aloft Excalibur-”

“Is no one else worried about the disembodied singing?” Dennis and the woman looked at each other before informing me that “no, no, this is quite normal”.

“-from the bosom of the water signifying by Divine Providence that I-” Not-Arthur continued as if we had never spoken. He had lifted his hand, striking a dramatic pose with his face towards the sky. It looked kind of funny. I think I might convince Arthur to try it sometime. In front of all the knights. And Gwen. And the townspeople.

“Hey, I never got your name.” I said towards the woman, who blushed at the thought. Not that I was attracted to her. At all (still not judging here. She is just not my type. Seriously. No judging. At all.)

“Oh, it’s Morgana.” I started coughing. A lot. Morgana!?! Seriously! The Morgana of this world is a peasant woman who looks like a man (NOT JUDGING!!!) who wants to remove royalty from power? It don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I ended up doing something of both.

“Arthur, was to carry Excalibur.” Not-Arthur continued again, this time glaring at us. I just flashed my trademark grin (patent pending… patent pending?) and shrugged. The singing finally stopped and the light that had flooded the area, which I had not been aware of until now, disappeared. “That is why I am your king!” 

“Listen -- strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government. Supreme executive power derives from a mandate from the masses, not from some farcical aquatic ceremony.” Wow, when you put it that way… I wander what Dennis would say about pulling a sword from a stone. At least my Arthur was already king. 

“Be quiet!” I can’t decide which Arthur has the shorter temper. I think all Arthur’s are this short-tempered. At least my Arthur knows when he is wrong. Well, after being hit over the head with it several times. This one doesn’t seem to accept that he could possibly be wrong. Seriously who put this man in charge?

“Well you can't expect to wield supreme executive power just 'cause some watery tart threw a sword at you!” Which was completely true.

“Were you even a prince before you became king?” From his story it didn’t even sound like it.

“Shut up!” He keeps sounding more and more like Arthur. I wonder if my presence is having an effect on it. I will need to test this hypothesis. I wonder if I get one of the knights to report any actions Not-Arthur does. Maybe Gwaine. My Gwaine is always happy to help with my experiments. But then of course, I would have to find a way for inter-whatever-the-hell-this-is communication.

“I mean, if I went around sayin' I was an emperor just because some moistened bint had lobbed a scimitar at me they'd put me away!” Which I believe would be true if I knew what a scimitar was. The woman seemed to read my thoughts (adding credibility to idea that she is Morgana) and told me, in a whisper, that it is a curved sword.

“Shut up! Will you shut up!?!” Not-Arthur shouted, hitting Dennis. I winced in sympathy. While our respective boys fought, Morgana and I started a riveting discussion over different systems of ruling and their pros and cons. 

“Ah, now we see the violence inherent in the system.” Dennis shouted as his head was held in choke hold.

“Shut up!” Not-Arthur shouted again, while giving Dennis a nuggie. Wait? What is a nuggie!?! Oh, no it’s getting worse. I’m going to die!!

“Oh! Come and see the violence inherent in the system! HELP! HELP! I'm being repressed!” Not-Arthur, seeing the crowd gathering, quickly let go of Dennis and dusted off his hands.

“Bloody peasant!” Not-Arthur mumbled, not nearly as quietly as he thought, and hop-skipped away. I quickly followed, still trying to find out where I was without getting too distracted. Distantly I could hear Dennis still shouting.

“Oh, what a give it away. Did you here that, did you here that, eh? That's what I'm on about -- did you see him repressing me, you saw it didn't you?” I turned to see Morgana sadly patting him of the shoulder as he raged about. I laughed as she waved at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Shot me a review so I know what you liked and what you didn't so I can make it better!


	4. 'Tis but  a scratch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter for you to enjoy. I am stuck on one scene, sorry I mean chapter, but don't worry, I have plenty of buffer chapters until that point. If you have any requests for characters to add, please feel free to make the requests. I might add them if I can fit them in without making it look awkward. 
> 
> Sorry for any OOCness going on. Any major mistakes just tell me. I don't own, yada, yada, yada
> 
> On to the fic

The next craziness to start happened in a bridge on the road to Not-Camelot. Or I hope it was to Not-Camelot. And hopefully Not-Camelot has a Not-Gaius who is actually smart and can help me figure out how to get to my Camelot. I really should be more careful before casting spells.

There were two knights fighting, one a black knight, who looked a lot like the immortal black knights that Morgana used to invade Camelot that one time. Or was that Morgause? They both have invaded Camelot so many times with immortal/undead armies it is hard to keep track. The black knight ended up winning, killing the other knight, who was in green armor, and then threw him into the river. The black knight turned to face us. 

“You fight with the strength of many knights, Sir Knight.” Although I would love to see Arthur speak in such a stupidly dramatic manner, it does get boring after a while. And I really just want to go to Not-Camelot so I can get back home. 

“Who dares challenges the Black Knight?” Ummm… Wait, not Morgana/Morgause’s black knights. This is the undead black night that challenged and defeated most of the knights of Camelot before he finally challenged Arthur and Uther ended up killing him with Excalibur. What was his name? Sir… Arg. There has been too many knights to keep track of who is who.

“I do not challenge you.” Not-Arthur asked, slightly confused, which I decided was his permeant state of mind. But in his defense, he didn’t challenge the knight. The Black Knight did not reply and simply stood at the front of the bridge.

“I am Arthur, King of the Britons.” Not-Arthur replied after a tense silence. The Black Knight just stared ahead.

“I seek the finest and the bravest knights in the land to join me in my Court of Camelot.” Arthur continued when the knight said nothing. Yup, definitely that knight. Didn’t he hate the Pendragon’s?

“You have proved yourself worthy; will you join me?” The knight still didn’t reply.

“You are just going to knight some random guy whose name you don’t even know!?!” I asked. Because seriously. That was just stupid. Not-Arthur just gave me a look that said “Of course, don’t be stupid”. It is good to know that I haven’t lost my touch in reading Arthur’s facial expressions, even if it is with a guy who looks absolutely nothing like him.

“A man of your strength and skill would be the chief of all my knights-”

“Never!” The Black Knight abruptly cut off Not-Arthur. Not-Arthur looked slightly offended and looked at Patsy, as if he would voice his opinion, which never seemed to happen.

“You make me sad. So be it. Come, Patsy, Mordred.” Mordred? What the… Was he talking about me?

“Merlin. My name is Merlin.” 

“Of course, Morgana.” Not-Arthur said with a nod

“It’s Merlin! And Morgana is a girl’s name!” Dutifully ignoring me, Not-Arthur and Patsy (did he ever talk) moved to pass the knight.

“None shall pass.” Exclaimed the Black Knight, as he moved to stop Not-Arthur.

“What?” I really need to teach him to understand basic statements.

“None shall pass.”

“I have no quarrel with you, good Sir Knight, but I must cross this bridge.” Merlin insisted.

“Not-Arthur, you really need to start asking people their names.” Yeah, maybe not the best time to talk about this, but hey I have never been one for timing, why start now?

“Then you shall die.” A little over dramatic much. I mean it is just a bridge. Not even the bridge to the Fisher king’s kingdom was this heavily guarded.

“I command you as King of the Britons to stand aside!” I don’t think he cares about that. Not that I bothered to bring it up. I do have so sense of when and when not to mention things.

“I move for no man.” The Black Knight stated, drawing his sword.

“Well that is not necessarily true. I mean, one could argue that drawing your sword is considered moving and thus you just moved for Not-Arthur. 

“I will let no man pass.” The Black Knight amended his statement as if I had never spoken. He certainly was rude.

“So be it!” Not-Arthur said, drawing out his sword, which looked nothing like Excalibur, and the two started to fight. It was fairly anti-climactic compared to the other sword battles that I had witnessed/been a part of. A few attacks and a parry thrust later and the Black Knight had his entire left arm chopped off. It actually did not take that long.

“Now stand aside, worthy adversary.” Not-Arthur stated solemnly as he took a step back from the fight. 

“'Tis but a scratch.” There is not as much blood as I would expect from a completely removed arm. I wonder if it has something to do with the myth of the Black Knight. Arg, I really should have remembered what was so important about the Black Knight.

“A scratch? Your arm's off!” Not-Arthur exclaimed, motioning to the missing arm with his sword. I looked around for the discarded arm. I figure, it is important, and for all I know, the Black Knight can reattach limbs. I wonder if I could reattach limbs. There ought to be a spell for it out there somewhere. I mean, I have never seen a sorcerer with a missing limb. I wonder if I combine the spell for healing and the spell for fixing broken things. Or maybe just a spell for healing. It is a form of healing I guess.

“No, it isn't.” The Black Knight stated, plainly ignoring the missing limb. 

“Here it is!” I shouted, lifting up the limb. The glare that the Black Knight gave me made me stutter in a mix of laughter and sheepishness. Why does everybody I meet want to glare at me at one time or another? It is not as if I am that annoying all the time.

“Well, what's that then?” Not-Arthur asked, a little incredulous about the whole situation. And in his defense, it was on the unbelievable side. If it were not the multitude of immortal people that I have witnessed, I would have been incredulous as well. And seriously, what is with sorcerers and immortality? There was the Black Knight, Morgana’s immortal army, that one guy who trapped his soul in that stone in the tomb under the castle, what was his name? It doesn’t really matter. The point is: I’ve come across many immortal people before.

“I've had worse.” I can’t really decide if it is serious or something made up to defend his honor or what not. Because it was honor, right? That is what all those knightly types are into these days.

“You liar!” Not-Arthur yelled, not able to see past his preconceived notions. Another thing that both Arthur’s had in common. 

“Well actually, he is immortal. So he could have had worse. It is possible.”

“What?!? Immortal? How can someone be immortal?”

“Well, I don’t know about this parallel dimension, but in mine the Black Knight was betrayed, I think, by Uther. I think he killed the love of his life, or something like that. When he died, he swore he would come back from the grave to get revenge. And because he is already dead, he cannot be killed. Oh, and he hates all Pendragons because of it.”

“Umm… sorry?” It was not clear if he was saying sorry to the Black Knight for what his father in another whatever-this-is did, or sorry to me for not understanding.

“Come on you pansy!” The Black Knight interrupted us and started to strike at Not-Arthur. He just managed to block the blow and the two started to fight again.

“Hmm… for his lack of brains and political anything, he is a pretty good fighter.” I commented to Patsy, who just shrugged. You know, I have never heard him talk in this entire time. I decided right then and there that I was going to get him to talk by the end of whatever this was. I was so distracted by hatching evil, sorry completely innocent plots that I almost didn’t notice when Not-Arthur chopped off the right arm of the Black Knight.

“Victory is mine!” Not-Arthur exclaimed before kneeling down on the ground. He must either completely trust the honor of the immortal knight with a possible grudge against his whole family, or have complete faith in his skill. Both of which were completely stupid. I mean seriously, if I had learned nothing in life, I learned not to have complete faith in anything or anybody. You always end up underestimating them. ”We thank thee Lord, that in thy merc-“

“What are you doing?” I asked, holding this kicking knight back with a hand. I was surprised that I had the strength, but I have been getting forced workouts by all of the knights. So I can see where I got it. I was also glad for my long limbs, for once. They were longer than the knight’s legs, so I wasn’t being kicked.

“I am thanking the Lord for guiding my hand in battle and protecting us from harm.” Not-Arthur replied with a glare before going back to his praying. In my distraction, the Black Knight walked around me and started to kick at Arthur.

“Come on then.” He stated, bouncing on his toes. He really did have a horrible fighting stance. But that may have more to do with the fact that he had no arms.

“What?” Ok, that was not a stupid what. I know that Black Knight was not supposed to stop for anything in his quest for revenge, but this was just stupid.

“Have at you!” The knight rushed forward to try and kick at Not-Arthur again. But he was easily held back by me, with the help of a little magic. I made sure the Not-Arthur couldn’t see the flash of gold in my eyes. I didn’t know how these people dealt with people with magic, and I had long since trained myself never to do magic in front of people.

“You are indeed brave, Sir Knight, but the fight is mine.” Wow, we both didn’t bother to ask his name. I blame it on the fact that in my Camelot, people always just referred to him as the Black Knight.

“Oh, had enough, eh?” The Black Knight taunted, managing to escape my grasp once again. But this time he didn’t go back to kicking, just bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Look, you stupid bastard, you've got no arms left.” Not-Arthur nearly shouted, pointing to the stubs of his shoulders with his sword. I quickly found the second arm and picked it up, going back to also retrieve the first felled limb as well.

“Yes I have.” Once again, ignoring his own lack of arms, although he couldn’t wield a sword.

“Look!” Not-Arthur began, exasperated, motioning vaguely towards me. I held up both limbs, one of which was still holding a sword, which was creepy.

“Just a flesh wound.” The stupid knight boasted, while moving to kick Arthur in the leg again. I just drop both of the limbs with an exasperated sigh.

“Look, stop that.” Not-Arthur bit out, like that would do anything. He acted as if he was dealing with a small child throwing a tantrum, which in a way he kind of was. Deciding, not to bother to stop this fight that was destined to happen apparently, I moved back to Patsy and tried starting up another conversation.

“So, what is your stance on magic?” Patsy just stared at me blankly. 

“Chicken! Chicken!” The Black Knight yelled as he tried to head butt Not-Arthur. 

“I am being serious. Is it good? Bad? Do you burn sorcerer’s at the stake?” All I got was more, blank staring.

“Look, I'll have your leg. Right!” Not-Arthur shouted as he swung his sword and cut off the knight’s leg. The Knight preceded to hop around on one foot.

“Right, I'll do you for that!” The Black Knight yelled, as he hopped around, trying to keep his balance. I just rolled my eyes.

“Can you even talk?” I asked Patsy, realizing that maybe he can’t. Yes, I know. I can be slow. Patsy, looked at me before nodding his head.

“You'll what?” Not-Arthur asked, seeming even more stupefied, if that was even possible. 

“Come 'ere!” The Black Knight exclaimed, although he made no move to actually fight Arthur.

“Well, your mother is a lying, cheating, whore who had sex with a horse.” I stated trying not to blush at the words I was saying. It was not something that I would normally say, but I couldn’t think of anything else and I think I am spending too much time with Gwaine. All I got for my troubles was a hard glare that could rival Morgana’s.

“What are you going to do, bleed on me?” Not-Arthur taunted. I was a little disappointed that he fell for the Black Knights baiting, not that I would have been better. But I like to think I would.

“I'm invincible!” The Black Knight exclaimed, looking prouder than he really should have, missing three of his four limbs.

“You're a loony.” Not-Arthur stated, eyes wide with disbelief.

“You are just realizing this now?” I ask, allowing my inner sarcasm to drip into my voice. Both Arthur and Patsy glared at me and I flashed my wide “I’m completely innocent” grin that I was known for. Neither seemed to appreciate it.

“The Black Knight always triumphs!” The Black Knight yells to the trees, seemingly unaware of the situation he was in. “Have at you! Come on then.” Taunting Arthur further. Arthur cuts off the last limb and the Black Knight landed on the ground with a soft thump, only barely staying upright.

“All right; we'll call it a draw.” The Black Knight conceded, as if he hadn’t been completely trounced by Not-Arthur. 

“Come, Patsy, George.” Arthur said, hop-skipping away to the sound of clacking coconuts, which I still didn’t actually know what they were.

“Oh, come on! That wasn’t even close!” I yell as I walked (and it was walking! I absolutely was not walk-skipping. You cannot prove that I was!) behind them. 

“Oh, oh, I see, running away then. You yellow bastards! Come back here and take what's coming to you. I'll bite your legs off!” The Black Knight yelled after us, but no one was paying him any attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? If you just scroll down there is this box and if you write in said box and click the review button it will post the review and I can change my writing to make it better. There is also another button. Its a small, but very important button. It is called Kudos and if you want to click it. You know you want to click it. Go on, do it. You will be glad that you did after you clicked it. Please.


	5. Witch!  Burn her!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be a looooooong fic. It already has 66 pages and counting. So there is that. Umm, but Merlin will change some things, and I know where I am adding some other Merlin characters, so it would be awesome if you keep with me though it all.... 
> 
> Anyways, here is the next chapter.
> 
> Edit: $%$% I completly forgot to post this chapter... opps well here it is. You were probably completely confused when this scene didn't occur.

The next town we came across was doing something as a community, but it wasn’t until we actually got there that I realized what it was. And it made me glad that I did not perform magic in front of Not-Arthur.

“A witch! A witch! A witch! We've got a witch! A witch!” The crowd yelled, moving towards an official looking person standing on a raised platform. They pulled a young woman in a pointed hat, a crooked nose in the middle of the crowd. 

“We have found a witch, might we burn her?” one of the member of the mob asked. A mob needs permission to burn people here? Well, that is one aspect of this world that is more polite than my own.

“Burn her! Burn!” The crowd shouted, although not with as much force as some of the ones back home. Maybe they didn’t actually want to burn this woman.

“How do you know she is a witch?” The official asked, much more reasonable than Uther can be sometimes. He didn’t always ask for proof.

“She looks like one.” Stated another one, as if it was all that was needed. Even Uther knew that Sorcerer’s didn’t have a dress code. Although, that wasn’t always for the better.

“Bring her forward.” Commanded the official and the crowd pushed the young woman up onto the platform. I could now see that she wore a black dress that was more of a robe than anything.

“I'm not a witch. I'm not a witch.” The woman cried, pleading to the official.

“But you are dressed as one.” The official stated, as if she couldn’t tell. 

“They dressed me up like this.” The woman stated, a little indignant at the assumed fashion sense. People assume that I have a horrible fashion sense based on how I dress. But in reality, I just don’t care about something that matters so little to my survival. That tends to happen when you grow up in a small town.

“No, we didn't... no.” The crowd started off strong, but they lost momentum in the lie. I looked at Not-Arthur but he was looking on the scene with curiosity, but not doing anything about it. Some king he is.

“And this isn't my nose, it's a false one.” The witch explained further as she took off the nose. The official looked back at the crowd. I was fascinated by the nose. We didn’t have anything like that in my Camelot, especially of that quality. I didn’t even know it was fake until she took it off. That would really help with my disguises and in a variety of pranks that Arthur doesn’t need to know about.

“Well?” The official asked, accusingly. The crowd shuffled a little bit before first one spoke up.

“Well, we did do the nose.” He admitted, with a few of the other members of the crowd nodding along. Several members looked at each other, but none of them seemed willing to back down at this point.

“The nose?” The official asked, almost incredulously. It did seem kind of stupid that they didn’t add on the rest.

“And the hat -- but she is a witch!” The first villager admitted, but still tried to defend the crowd. But their already shaky defense just keeps on crumbling.

“Burn her! Witch! Witch! Burn her!” The crowd yelled, starting to get impatient.

“Did you dress her up like this?” The official asked, as if he were talking to a child, which everyone in this universe seems to be.

“No, no... no ... yes.” The crowd started, but ended up admitting the truth, because, at this point, it was completely obvious that they didn’t. “Yes, yes, a bit, a bit.”

“She has got a wart.” The first man spoke up, trying to keep up their defense that was almost nonexistent at this point.

“What makes you think she is a witch?” Asked the official who seemed fairly rational. I looked around for some wood to knock on but there was none in easy reaching distance, so I just shrugged and hoped for the best.

“Well, she turned me into a newt.” A third villager, who was clearly not a newt, stated.

“A newt?” The official asked, equally as suspicious as myself. Do these people even know what a newt is? Do I even know what a newt is? Now that I think about it, I don’t think I do. I will have to ask Gaius when I get back to my Camelot. 

“I got better.” The villager sheepishly replied, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

“Burn her anyway!” The first village demanded. Really?!? I turned to see Arthur still looking on in rapt attention, not bothering that they are about to burn someone for no reason whatsoever. Or worse, for something that they couldn’t prove.

“Burn! Burn her!” The crowd repeated the demand, but none of them made a move to actually burn the poor woman. However, the official did have a problem with calming down the crowd.

“Quiet, quiet. Quiet! There are ways of telling whether she is a witch.” The official state, sound all… official-like. The crowd instantly quieted down and listened in rapt attention. 

“Umm. Not-Arthur? Shouldn’t you be doing something?” I asked, hoping to get Not-Arthur to stop all of this before it was too late. But that didn’t look like it was going to happen anytime soon.

“Hush, Cenred, I want to hear what he had to say.” I shivered at the name (Really Not-Arthur, how hard is Merlin to remember? And why do you keep calling me by the names of bad guys? Am I really that annoying? Nah, that would be silly.) before turning to Patsy in hope that he would back me up here. But he didn’t even look at me. I think I made him made.

Are there? What are they?” The crowd asked, surprising me with the extent that the synchronized themselves. But I didn’t focus too much on that before I was back worrying over the woman who was about to be burned alive for a crime she didn’t commit. And it is a crime that shouldn’t even exist.

“Tell me, what do you do with witches?” The official asked, which was really not helping the situation at all. They do not need encouragement. In fact, they really need 

“Burn!” The first man yelled and the crowd repeated “Burn, burn them up!”

“And what do you burn apart from witches?” I don’t like where this is going. At all.

“More witches!” Or maybe I shouldn’t be too worried. These people don’t seem too smart. Or resourceful. Or dangerous of any kind.

“Wood!” How does that have anything to do with tell if someone is a witch?

“So, why do witches burn?” The official asked. Um… because they are human and humans burn… There was a long pause before any of them spoke, trying to figure out if it was a trick question. Because it had to be, right?

“Because they're made of wood?” What the bloody hell? One of the villagers asked, although he was so unsure that it ended up being more of a question then an answer.I understand that it is technically a logical progression of an if-then statement and that with the given conditions it is correct… but that is not in any way correct, at all. Like, ever. Seriously?

“Good!” The official exclaimed like he was praising a little kid who got a question correct. What is it with these people and being little kids?

“Oh yeah, yeah...” The crowd murmured as if they knew the answer all along. Moochers…

“So, how do we tell whether she is made of wood?” The official asked. Did he really need to take their hand and guide them to an answer? And the answer is you can’t because witches are not make of wood. Because they are HUMAN!

“Not-Arthur? You really-” I started to try to get Not-Arthur to stop this non-sense but I was promptly shushed by increasingly annoyed King.

“Build a bridge out of her.” The first villager exclaimed. I really don’t have a response to that one.

“Aah, but can you not also build bridges out of stone?” They put this guy in charge?!?

“Oh, yeah." The second villager mumbled. I decided that this was really not going to help anyone at all, but there was nothing I could do to stop it… hmmm. I started to look around for a discreet way to stop this nonsense, still keeping an ear on the not quite debate.

“Does wood sink in water?” I snort. Lots of things float on water, and most of them are not present in the human body and thus not witches.

“No, no.” The first villager spoke softly, thinking to himself. Really does this take that much thinking to answer the simple question? Goddess, where is a bandit attack when you need one?

“It floats! It floats!” The second member of the crowd exclaimed excitedly. No comment.

“Throw her into the pond!” The first shouted towards the crowd which got her riled up. Wait, this might actually help me. If the young woman swam down the pond and held her breath until she could be “rescued” then she wouldn’t be a witch by their own logic. Now if only I could get a moment alone with her.

“The pond!” The crowd shouted as they started to drag the “witch” away.

“What also floats in water?” The official asked. Wait, no! Go with the pond. Go with the pond. I have a plan…. Clotpole...

“Bread!” The first villager shouted. You know what, I am going to tune this conversation out. It is starting to hurt my head in its stupidity.

“Apples!” Not paying attention…

“Very small rocks!” Still not listening.

“Cider!” NOT LISTENING!

“Great gravy!” What?

“Cherries!”Urg…

“Mud!” Sigh…

“Churches -- churches!” Wait… what?

“Lead -- lead!” seriouslyohmygoddessiwanttokillthemallandiamapassifistmostly…cantheyseriouslybethatstupidleaddoesnotfloatinwaterever…. Andwhatwaswiththechurches… now my brain was fried with the sheer number of thoughts

“Not-Arthur, do something!” I practically scream in his ear. He looks at me before solemnly nodding.

“A duck.” Arthur calls out and the crowd starts to Oooh.

…

“NOT HELPFUL!” I yell, although everyone ignores me.

“Exactly! So, logically...” The official started the sentence, trailing off for the crowd to finish.

“If... she... weighs the same as a duck, she's made of wood." The first villager, who is clearly the leader and the, sadly, the smartest, finished slowly. I just shake my head in defeat.

“And therefore--?” Urging the villagers on more.

“A witch!” The first villager cried out. Wait, why doesn’t the woman just leave? It’s not like they tied her down or anything. Why didn’t I think of that sooner? But it was too late as the crowd repeated to shout and bundled closer to the young woman.

“We shall use my larger scales!” The official called out as he led the crowd, which had picked up the poor woman, to a set of large scales. The crowd started yelling as the woman was placed on one of the pans. The other pan already had a conveniently located duck on it. The scale was obviously not balanced correctly beforehand. I know this thanks to Gauis’ constant nagging about proper balance of his own set of significantly smaller scales. Oh, wait. I can use this.

“Right, remove the supports!” The official called out and the villagers removed the supports. The woman and the duck balanced each other and the villagers started yelling.

“A witch! A witch!”

“It's a fair cop.” The completely-not-a-witch said with a shrug. I ignored her complete lack of self-preservation and own stupidity, and let my eyes flash gold. The woman started lower but the crowd wasn’t paying attention.

“Burn her! Burn!” They yelled until the official quieted them down.

“Look at the scale. She is not a witch.” The crowd started mumbling to themselves at a loss of what to do. But I saved the witch. I took a moment to bask in my own glory (I have to bask in it myself because I get absolutely no credit whatsoever and even I need a little praise every now and then, even if it is from myself.)

“Look! There is a witch!” Now they can be more reasonable… wait, what?!? Before anyone had a chance to say and or do anything to the crowd they had all rushed off to the next “witch’. Really!?! Deciding that it would be safer for my insanity to just ignore them (It isn’t my land anyways. And something just have to happen) I turn back to Not-Arthur to see him talking to the official. 

“Who are you who are so wise in the ways of science?” I shorted at the words.

“Nothing that just happened could be considered science of any kind.” I mumble, but all three men (including the ever silent Patsy) glared at me before continuing as if I had never spoken.

“I am Arthur, King of the Britons.” Oh goody. He didn’t go into his whole speech again. 

“My liege!” The official exclaimed as he dropped into a bow.

“Bootlicker…” I mumble which got me three more hard glares.

“Good Sir knight, will you come with me to Camelot, and join us at the Round Table?” Because anyone and their mother can apparently join the Knights of the Round Table. Yay!

“My liege! I would be honored.” The official exclaimed, bowing again.

“Stuck-up.” I cough, to three more glares and Patsy smacking me over the head with a coconut. Rude!

“I just want to go home!” I almost shout. I was promptly ignored.

“What is your name?” Oh, hey. That is the first time he asked. He must really like this official guy. I informed said official which got me more glares. Seriously, can no one here take a joke?

“Bedemir, my leige.” And we have a name. Finally. And no one offended anybody yet. Well, except me. But how was I supposed to know they couldn’t take a joke.

“Then I dub you Sir Bedemir, Knight of the Round Table.” Then the world around me faded to black and a large book appeared in the air in front of me. And I mean large, like twice my size large. As the pages magically (I assume, because there really isn’t another explanation to it) turned a disembodied voice sounded around me. 

“The wise Sir Bedemir-” I snorted at this. Cause Arthur is wiser than he was.

“That is debatable.” I call out to the voice. It just gave a little cough.

“The wise Sir Bedmir was the first to join King Arthur's knights”

“No he wasn’t.” I said with a snort, interrupting the voice again. Because, he wasn’t. I would say Leon was the first of Arthur’s knights. Although he technically was Uther’s knight before he was ever Arthur’s and the first of “Arthur’s Knights” (I’m only considering the closet ones, like Percival) that Arthur knighted would be Lancelot… Or was it Gwaine. The voice coughed again.

“The wise Sir Bedmir was the first to join King Arthur's knights but other illustrious names were soon to follow: Sir Launcelot the Brave; Sir Galahad the Pure; and Sir Robin the Not-quite-so-brave-as-Sir-Launcelot who had nearly fought the Dragon of Agnor,

“There is no Dragon of Agnor. The last dragon is Kiligrah and he is currently in a large cave system just outside of the boarders of Camelot.” The voice just got louder and spoke over me. How rude!

“who had nearly stood up to the vicious Chicken of Bristol” I started laughing. He was beaten by a chicken! I could have sworn I heard a glower in the voice’s… well voice.

“and who had personally wet himself at the Battle of Badon Hill” It continued on, trying to ignore me.

“He would have never been made a knight by my Arthur” I comment to no one in particular. Not that there was anyone to say it to. Well there was the disembodied voice, but I don’t think it likes me this much.

“Will you stop interrupting me!” Oh hey, it stopped ignoring me. Improvement.

“Why should I? You’re getting it wrong anyways.” This time it was the voice that snorted. I think I am rubbing off on it. Or he. It was a masculine voice. Hmm…

“No, I am not.”

“Trust me you are.”

“I am the narrator, so obviously I’m right.”

“Just because you are a narrator doesn’t mean you are right. It is called an unreliable narrator. I do, in fact, work for King Arthur and have for the last nine years. I think I know who the knights are.”

“Well then how about you tell the story.”

“I would be glad to. Now the first knight was Sir Leon the Lionheart, who was a knight when Arthur was a young boy. Then there was Sir, Lancelot the loyal, who gave up his love and his life for Arthur. Then there was the roughish Sir Gwaine who was a noble, but refused to accept his title. Then there was Sir Elyan, the queen’s brother. Last was Sir Percival who was built like a lion and as quiet as a mouse. But that is not actually where the story begins, it begins with a young warlock who finds himself in Camelot…” The pages of the books start to flip and one of the images grows until I find myself in next to Arthur, Patsy, and the official, who seemed to be in the middle of explaining something, and a group of knights. I guess I should start calling him Bedemir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it? Merlin saved the witch, sort of. Anyways, leave comments and kudos. They make my day.


	6. The Quest for the Holy Grail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting on time but RL decided to rear its ugly head and I had family problems to take care of....
> 
> But you didn't come to hear about my life; you came for Merlin and Monty Python shenanigans.

“And that, my liege, is how we know the Earth to be banana-shaped.” Umm… what? I’m confused what is going on. Patsy must have noticed because he gave me a worried look. I flashed one of my trademark grins and Patsy just rolled his eyes.

“This new learning amazes me, Sir Bedemir. Explain again how sheeps' bladders may be employed to prevent earthquakes.” Again? Didn’t he get it the first time? Actually, I wouldn’t mind hearing this. It might be interesting. If anything it would be a good laugh.

“Oh, certainly, sir.” Bedemir said before he opened his mouth to begin before he was rudely interrupted. Is everyone in this dimension so rude?

“Look, my liege!” One of the knights shouted, pointing to a large castle looming in the distance. 

“Camelot!” Not-Arthur shouted.

“Camelot!” A second knight shouted.

“Camelot!” The first knight shouted.

“Camelot!” I shouted as well. But mine was more sarcastic, or so I like to think.

“It's only a model.” It took me a moment before I believed what I was hearing. Because it was impossible… Patsy spoke! I looked at him shocked but Patsy simply smirked at me.

“Shhh!” Not-Arthur wasn’t as quiet as he thought he was. He was actually quite loud. “Knights, I bid you welcome to your new home. Let us ride... to Camelot.” Arthur said, overly dramatic and the knights started to hop-skip their way to a model. Patsy shared a smirk with me as he started to bang the coconuts together. I think he is starting to like me.

In some sort of mass hallucination everyone saw a group of well armored knights singing in a well-choreographed dance number inside what I could only guess was Camelot.

“We're knights of the round table  
We dance when e'er we're able  
We do routines and parlour scenes  
With footwork impecc-Able.

We dine well here in Camelot  
We eat ham and jam and spam a lot

We're knights of the Round Table  
Our shows are for-mid-able  
Though many times we're given rhymes  
That are quite unsing-able  
We not so fat in Camelot  
We sing from the diaphragm a lot

Oh we're tough and able  
Quite indefatigable  
Between our quests we sequin vests  
And impersonate Clark Gable  
It's a bit too loud in Camelot  
I have to push the pram a lot.”

“Well, on second thought, let's not go to Camelot.” Not-Arthur said after the hallucination ended, to a chorus of knights agreeing. “It is a silly place.”

“Right” We all replied. For once, we agreed on something.

We had not gone more than a couple yards of when a large beam of light shot from the sky and bathed us all in slightly brighter light than what is around us. Disembodied singing started up and the pages banged their coconuts together and whinnied like frighten horses. I looked up to see a significantly not real looking man in the sky in a circle of clouds. It was almost all a little too much and I had to stick a fist in my mouth to prevent from laughing out loud. All of the knights fell towards their knees, but I didn’t feel like following their example. 

“Arthur! Arthur, King of the Britons!” A great bombing voice echoed around the rolling hills, which it really shouldn’t do. Not-Arthur and his knights get even further to the ground. Wow, and I thought George was a bootlicker. “Oh, don't grovel! If there’s one thing I can't stand, its people groveling.” The knights promptly got up, but refused to look into the sky.

“Sorry-” Not-Arthur started but for he was interrupted by the voice in the sky, who sounded kind of angry.

“And don't apologize. Every time I try to talk to someone it's ‘sorry this’ and ‘forgive me that’ and ‘I'm not worthy’. What are you doing now!?” He practically growled out. Or a really masculine woman growled out. Who knows? I still don’t judge. Although chances are this man is in fact a man. He has a beard. Only men have beards right? I mean, who ever heard of a bearded woman?

“I'm averting my eyes, oh Lord.” Didn’t they think that they were over doing it a little bit? I mean Uther was all “I am holier than thou” (holier? Why would I use holier? It’s not like he believed he was a god or anything like that.) and even he would agree that this was a little over the top.

“A bit dramatic, don’t you think?” I mumble not so quietly, because since when did I ever keep my opinions to myself. Not-Arthur looked at me aghast (it reminded me so much of my own Arthur that I had one of those heart clinching, soulful, staring off into the distance with a single tear welling up…. I mean a random bout of manly homesickness. I’m not a girl Arthur!)

 

*Somewhere, in a faraway land, or an alternate universe, or who really cares at this moment, the young king of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon was listening to the latest news from the patrols, worrying about his missing manservant, although, he would never admit it, when he swore he heard Merlin’s voice in his head forcefully informing him that he was not a girl. He decided then and there that he was going crazy from Merlin-withdraw.*

“Yeah, what he said. So, don't. It's like those miserable Psalms-- they're so depressing. Now knock it off!” The voice boomed and all the knights looked into the sky. The man in the sky looked toward me and I had to bite back another round of laughter. 

“Yes, Lord.” Arthur replied, finally acting like a normal human being, well as normal as these people ever seem to be. 

“And who are you?” The man in the sky, whose name I should really find out, pointed toward me with one giant hand.

“Umm… Merlin. And who are you?” I ask, trying to seem polite. My mother did teach me manners. I just chose not to use them most of the time.

“I am God, creator of everything. Are you from an alternate universe that parallels almost our own but had diverged at a period of time long ago and thus is now similar to our own but completely different?” God? Really? I guess if he wanted to be named that, he can. I mean the Triple Goddess has a similar name. In that it is the Triple Goddess. And I have learned from great experience not to go offending all-powerful gods without a really good reason. They tend to get angry and then smite you.

“That is my current working theory. That or I am having a really messed up dream. Which is sadly equally possible.” Everyone was silent for a moment as they thought of all the weird dreams that I have had. And one of them might even be accurate. There was that one dream where everyone in Camelot turned into chickens and went to war with Mercia, who were all snails, but instead of swards they fought with giant loaves of bread. And in the end no one won because they all got distracted by sticks shaped like cute animals, and they collected them and then battled them against each other. Arthur kept shouting that he had to get them all.

“Right…” God started, a little confused and maybe freighted, as if he heard my thoughts (crazy, right?) before he continued speaking to Arthur, “Arthur, King of the Britons -- your Knights of the Round Table shall have a task to make them an example in these dark times. And Merlin, complete this task and I will send you home.” Wait a minute… but before I could ask my question everyone just charged on, leaving me in the metaphorical dust.

“Good idea, oh Lord!” Not-Arthur said, that bootlicker. And I don’t even get to complain.

“'Course it's a good idea! Behold! Arthur, this is the Holy Grail. Look well, Arthur, for it is your sacred task to seek this Grail. That is your purpose, Arthur and Merlin -- the Quest for the Holy Grail!” God started off indigent but turned serious as he explained Arthur’s quest and a glowing image of a giant goblet replaced the giant man in the sky,

“Wait! Hold on a minute! I have a question!” I shouted as the disembodied choir starting singing again and the clouds closed in like a curtain. The singing cut off abruptly and Gods face appeared again.

“What?” He said grumpily.

“Why can’t I go back the way I came? If I use the same spell that I used to get here but just use the word for home instead I should get back to my own dimension without a problem.” The knights looked at me like I had just told them that their mother was a prostitute and their father was a horse, and that the world doesn’t exist and that it is just a figment of their imagination all at once. God had a slightly panicked look on his face. 

“No, of course not. Why would you ever think that? It would be too easy and you wouldn’t be able to go on this quest. I know you are not from around but you should know better.” God said a little too quickly.

“But-” I tried again, but was interrupted before I could even try.

“You are going on this quest. You will find the Holy Grail and then I will tell you how to go back home.” I mumbled agreement. But it really would be easier and quicker if I could just send myself back with my magic. Does my magic even work? I would have to check sometime when the others were not awake. Arthur was going to let a witch burn. The clouds closed again to the sound of a disembodied chorus that I was only just now getting used to. I swore I heard God mumbling about how that little pest of a warlock who isn’t even from this dimension could have figured such a hard spell out. 

“A blessing!” One of the knights said, awed. I think it was supposed to be Lancelot, but it was hard to tell. I was never actually introduced to the knights. “A blessing from the Lord!”

“God be praised!” Another, younger knight followed, just as awed. I had another of those weird vision things and childish drawings of trumpets appeared playing a tune. Then a short scene with various different trumpets playing, some by very inappropriate means (I shudder at the thought alone. I think a small part of me died when I watched it). Two women with wings rose up into the air with what looked like a set of pipes with wings and a picture of a man with lines leading away from him in a circle floated in the air. The line continued to grow until my entire vision was filled with just one line. Everything looked like a weird style of drawing.

Then more women these with wings, rose up playing some weird instrument that looked like a giant smoking pipe. Two more winged women operated a crank system that pulled up letters, the fancy kind that were sometimes hard to read, that read “The quest for the Holy Grail”. It was kind of like when you accidently eat the wrong kind of mushrooms and they make you go crazy and you start seeing things and then the king starts acting like a dog and all of the council members look like talking animals and Gaius is just a pair of eyebrows… Not that I am speaking from experience or anything. (DON”T JUDGE ME!!!)

*We interrupt your regularly scheduled reading to bring you this Arthur’s note. 

If you have never seen Monty Python and the Holy Grail, you really should at least see this scene because it really cannot be described. Plus you should see the awesomeness of Monty Python, anyways.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled reading…. Oh wait. That was the end of this chapter… Oh well.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, what do you think? Yes? No? Maybe so? You know the drill


	7. You don't frighten us, English pig-dogs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back to posting on your regularly scheduled Wednesdays.
> 
> Oh and for those of you that didn't check back in earlier this week, I posted a chapter Monday so you might want to look at that. 
> 
> Now I will leave you to read the craziness that is this story.

When I finally get my vision back I am hop-skipping, which is actually kind of fun to do (No judging. Judging is bad), next to Patsy in a rolling country side. We continued moving like this, all though I did stop hop-skipping. I was getting kind of embarrassed and tired. I didn’t realize how much energy that required. We passed woods and this person who appeared to be trying to fish by beating at the fish to death with a giant stick. We actually went through the woods, some of the knights obviously becoming tired, when we came across a castle.

“Halt!” Not-Arthur called and the knights broke out of the line and into another formation. Patsy blew a trumpet that didn’t sound anything like a trumpet at all. “Hello!” Arthur called up the castle walls. Seriously, why didn’t they just go up to the gate? Or do they not have gates in this universe? That is entirely possible at this point. Granted, everything is possible at this point. “Hello!” Not-Arthur called out again when no one answered the first one. From the top of the castle a guard appeared and looked over the side.

“'Allo! Who is zis?” The guard asked. It sounded as if he was disguising his voice for some reason. Either that or he just had a really strange accent. I did what I find myself doing more and more in this world. Ignoring it and continue to try to go home.

“It is King Arthur, and these are the Knights of the Round Table. Whose castle is this?”

“This is the castle of Our Master Luis de L’Ramber” The guard replied. Or I think that is what he said. I have no idea how to actually spell the name that he gave. It was most probably fake. I mean, who would actually name their child that?

“Go and tell your master that we have been charged by God with a sacred quest. If he will give us food and shelter for the night, he can join us in our quest for the Holy Grail.” Because someone would give up living in a lovely castle to go on some stupid quest for a fancy goblet for no reason what so ever. It’s not like it is the cup of life or anything.

“Well, I'll ask him, but I don't think he'll be very keen... Uh, he's already got one, you see?” It was kind of hard to make out over his accent, but I managed to barely make it out. Something about this whole situation just didn’t seem right.

“What?” Not-Arthur asked, confused by this whole situation. I couldn’t tell if he didn’t understand his accent or the fact that his quest was too easy. It could have been the same thing.

“He says they've already got one!” Says one of the knights, Galhard? Galavant? Something like that. I’m not even sure how I know the name, I was never introduced to one of them. Anyway, said, Galahad (That is right… I think…), in response to Not-Arthur’s question.

“Are you sure he's got one?” Asked Not-Arthur up to the guard. There is only one Holy Grail. At least I’m pretty sure there is. What would be the use of this stupid quest anyways if there was more than one?

“Oh, yes, it's very nice.” That didn’t seem that sincere to me. I cast a look at Patsy, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. I feel sorry for him, having to deal with this idiocy on a daily bases. The guard seemed to be saying something to people behind the wall and looked to be trying hard not to laugh. Yup, he doesn’t have it. He is just playing Not-Arthur.

“Well, um, can we come up and have a look?” Not-Arthur asked, still kind of confused. 

“Of course not! You are English types-a!” The guard replied indignant. English types? Whatever. I turned to Patsy who seemed just as fed up with this situation as I was. 

“I bet you a gold coin that the Grail isn’t even up there.” I said to Patsy and gave me a look that said “I am not fond of losing my money”. I just shrugged. He had a point. And oh look. I’m now fluent in Patsy’s looks now. When did that happen?

“Well, what are you then?” Wait, did I miss something? Is the foreign guard not human? That would be interesting.

“I'm French! Why do think I have this outrageous accent, you silly king!” The guard called out. So, nope. Didn’t miss a thing.

“I bet you a gold coin that they never find out that the Grail isn’t in there.” It took me a while to nod my head. I still wasn’t used to the idea that Patsy could talk. I ignored the conversation to make the bet. I barely heard what the others were saying.

“What are you doing in England?”

“I bet that he will find out when the French man tells him at the end of this encounter.” I place my bet and we shake on it. Thank god I had some money from Arthur to get his armor fixed or I wouldn’t have any coins to bet. 

“Mind your own business!”

“We call it a scene.” A scene? What is a scene? I voice my question, because Patsy seemed like he would give me an answer that was more than “this is a scene” which all Not-Arthur seems to be able to give.

“If you will not show us the Grail, we shall take your castle by force!”

“A scene is a sequence of continuous action in a play, movie, opera, or book.” Umm… so an encounter got it. We turned back to the conversation when the guard started shouting.

“You don't frighten us, English pig-dogs! Go and boil your bottoms, sons of a silly person. I blow my nose at you, so-called Arthur-king, you and all your silly English kaniggets. Thppppt!” He said hitting his head and wiggling his hands by his face and sticking his tongue out at us. He might actually be stranger than Not-Arthur.

“What a strange person.” Galahad (maybe?) echoed my thoughts.

“Is everyone you encounter this strange?” I stage whisper to Patsy, not that anyone was paying attention to us. We probably could have shouted at the top of our lungs and no one would have noticed.

“Now look here, my good man!”

“Hmm… this is pretty strange. There was that time with the talking raptors. They kept singing blues music. What about you?” Patsy replied after a few seconds of contemplation. What is blues music? I will have to get Patsy to sing some to me later. Although, it did sound very sad. 

“I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough whopper! I fart in your general direction! You mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.”

“This is wins hands down. The funniest thing that ever happened was the time that a goblin escaped and possessed Gaius and made Uther’s head bald, turned Arthur in to a donkey, and caused the entire court to have uncontrollable gas.” Patsy kind of looked confused, so I promised that I would tell him the full story later.

“Is there someone else up there we could talk to?” Galahard (am I getting his name correct? I will have to ask him later) asked.

“I seriously doubt he would tell you if there was.” I say sarcastically, because that is who I am. I could probably beat Gwaine. Patsy, quietly snickered in the background.

“No, now go away or I shall taunt you a second time!” That wasn’t much of a threat, given the absurdity of the previous taunts. Not that I am any better. But I wasn’t trying to be serious. And I just make up words. I never once called Arthur’s mother a hamster. But that might just be because it is wrong to speak ill of the dead. They tend to come back and literally haunt you.

“Now, this is your last chance. I've been more than reasonable.” Not-Arthur shouted. I briefly wondered what he would do. He didn’t seem that great of a leader. And I had never seen him train with his knights. Granted there was that time skip of an unknown length, which I should really ask Patsy about. 

“If you do not agree to my commands, then I shall—” Not-Arthur But he was cut off by a large cow was launch from over the wall. Seriously, that is just a waste of livestock. That cow could have fed a small village for a month. Or provided milk for everyone.

“Jesus Christ!” He shouted as everyone moved away from the flying cow. And it was a huge cow that had not been milked recently. However, Galhad’s (seriously, what is his name?) servant was crushed.

“Right… Charge!” Not-Arthur starts off as if he were simply giving an affirmative. Does he really not care about servants? Hell, Arthur saved my life when he barely knew me and hated my guts. But he ended with a shout and drew his sword. All of the knight charge with a scream with their swords drawn while I, Patsy, and rest of the servants wisely stay back here. Suddenly more guards appeared and started throwing various animals at the knights. They made it all the way to the base of the wall. I had no idea what they were going to do now. There was no door or gate to get in, nor a ladder to climb up.

“Ah, this one is for your mother!” The only guard who has spoken to us says as he throws what might have been a cat or possibly goose. It was hard to tell from this distance. This is a complete waste of farm animals. Any one of those could feed a family for a day, the cows an entire village for a month. No wander everyone in this world are so poor. They use their food as weapons. That is just wrong and completely stupid.

“Run away!” Not-Arthur yelled. If anything confirmed that this is in fact not my Arthur (you know, other than the looks, and the knights, and the voice, and everything about him) it was this: my Arthur never runs away. He tactically retreats. And he tells me to shut up when I try to tell him they are the same thing. O, I miss my Arthur.

“Fiends! I'll tear them apart!” Lancelot growled out. It was nice to know that all Lancelots had a fierce protective instincts when it came to his friends. Or so I hoped that is what it was and that Not-Lancelot was a blood-craving lunatic that was easily insulted.

“No no, no.” Not-Arthur quickly stopped Not-Lancelot from running back towards the castle to be killed by falling livestock, which is still a complete waste of perfectly good livestock.

“Sir! I have a plan, sir.” Sir Bedemir said as he turned to Arthur. Why do I have a really bad feeling about this? And my bad feelings always turn out to be something. And never good. This was going to crash and burn before it can even have a chance to work. 

 

Several hours, and lots of nails later, a larger wooden bunny rolled up to the gates of the castle so they do have gates. And I don’t even know how they built that thing. I got the impression that none of them were carpenters but it turned out surprisingly well made, considering the combine intelligence of these people. Slowly the gate opened and the guard stuck his head out and looked around before retreating back in, but leaving the gate open

“ce labon a bunny do.” I heard the first guard mutter. I was with the knights for some reason and we were currently hiding behind a small hill close to our original position. I didn’t know where the rest of the servants were, including Patsy. They seemed to have disappeared. Which was strange considering how large their packs are.

“wha?” Muttered another guard and then half a dozen guards stuck their heads out of the gate they all look and retreated back inside. Again they left the door open and I could hear them muttering.

“un cadeau?”

“a present!”

“oh, un cadeau.”

“oui oui hurry!”

“wha-?”

“let's go!” Then all the guards creeped out of the gate like they were not armed and in a vast open field where everyone can see them. Quickly the knights ducked down. One of them, whom I am going to assume is Sir Robin, pulled me down with them when I did not move. The guards slowly approached the giant wooden bunny and pushed it inside. 

“What happens now?” Not-Arthur asks, looking towards Bedemir. Because now the castle has a giant wooden rabbit and are still at the advantage. 

“Well, now, uh, Lancelot, Galahad, and I wait until nightfall, and then leap out of the rabbit, taking the French by surprise -- not only by surprise, but totally unarmed!” Sir Bedemir replied, lifting up his visor and pointing to each of the knights in turn. It was actually a very good plan (I should suggest it to Arthur, if only to see his face). There was only one problem…

“Who leaps out?” Not-Arthur asked, slightly confused as the knights that were supposed to jump out of the bunny were beside him.

“Uh, Lancelot, Galahad, and I. Uh, leap out of the rabbit, uh and uh....” Trailing off as he realized his mistake. And now they had wasted all that time. I sighed and began to think of my own plan. If we could somehow distract the guards, Sir Robin and I could sneak around the backside. I felt a poke in my side, and I turned to see Sir Robin looking at me as if I had asked him to go to his death and was vehemently shaking his head (vehemently? I think I am doing it again. Hell! I used to only do it with taunts. I blame Not-Arthur). Oh, did I say that out loud?

“Oh....” Arthur said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Bedemir thought for a moment before he piped up again.

“Oh.... Um, l-look, if we built this large wooden badger—” He was cut off as Arthur hit him over the head. We were all distracted by the sound of a trebuchet releasing and the rabbit flew over the side of the wall in our direction. Everyone was shouting run away and running away. However, the rabbit landed on Galahad’s servant who had finally got his arm into a sling so it could heal. I winced in sympathy. We continued running and I could hear the laughter of guards behind us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What do you think? Leave a review and it makes me happier!


	8. In that case I shall have to kill you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would make some excuse but I won't. I respect my few readers too much. But, hey! At least it is posted!

A suited man stood in front of a wooded area. A voice could be heard.

“Pictures for Schools, take 8.”

“Action!” Shout another voice. The suited man started to speak and motion with his arms. The words Professor of History appeared in yellow lettering.

“Defeat at the castle seems to have utterly disheartened King Arthur. The ferocity of the French taunting took him completely by surprise, and Arthur became convinced that a new strategy was required if the quest for the Holy Grail were to be brought to a successful conclusion. Arthur, having consulted his closest knights, decided that they should separate, and search for the Grail individually. Now, this is what they did—” He was cut off by the sounds of running horses and a knight gallops by. The historian turns to look and is quickly decapitated by the knight, who gallops away.

“Greg!” A woman screams as she runs towards the man. The sound of galloping hooves could be heard again and another horse enters the scene. But this horse pulls up short to look at the body. It rider wore a blue tunic, a red neckerchief and brown trousers. He shakes his head at the headless man before galloping away. All that was heard was the second man’s shout.

“Not-Percival, did you have to cut off that man’s head!”

 

More of those fancy, gilded letters appeared, but this time they spelled out “The Tale of Sir Robin”

“The tale of Sir Robin....” The disembodied voice called out again. I felt the sudden need to wave at the disembodied voice, although I didn’t know how I would. I decided to do the next best thing: be sarcastic.

“I can read.”

“For all I know, you could be blind.” The disembodied voice replied. I snorted at the comment. Why would I be blind?

“Well, I’m not blind.”

“Well, maybe one of our watchers is blind.” I decided to ignore the word watchers, which made absolutely on sense in the context of this situation.

“Then they wouldn’t be watching then.” I quickly replied, putting on my cheekiest smile. The disembodied voice made a sound that could be best described as “Arg” or exasperation.

“The tale of Sir Robin… So each of the knights went their separate ways. Sir Robin rode north, through the dark forest of Ewing-”

“Which doesn’t exist.” The voice made another exasperated sound before he continued on.

“Through the dark forest of debatable name, accompanied by his favorite minstrels.” By the time he had finished his sentence I found myself on a road in a forest. It was actually quite similar to the first road I had found myself in. I looked around to see who I assumed was Sir Robin hop skipping his way down the road with his servant and several men playing various instruments and dancing while they walked. Why did the only person here who actually rode a horse have to be a psychopath?

“Bravely bold Sir Robin, rode forth from Camelot.  
He was not afraid to die, o Brave Sir Robin.  
He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways.  
Brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin!

He was not in the least bit scared to be mashed  
into a pulp,  
Or to have his eyes gouged out, and his elbows broken.  
To have his kneecaps split, and his body burned away,  
And his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Robin!

His head smashed in and his heart cut out,  
And his liver removed and his bowels unplugged,  
And his nostrils ripped and his bottom burned off,  
And his penis—“ Ummm…. No comment.

“That's -- that's, uh, that's enough music for now, lads. Looks like there's dirty work afoot.” There was in fact nothing going on. And I was wondering how creative these men could be with their killing. I know quite a few creative ways to kill someone. For example, death by Morgana’s glare; death by dragon’s riddles; or death by Not-Arthur’s stupidity. And that could actually happen to Sir Robin.

“Anarcho-syndicalism is a way of preserving freedom.” I smiled and waved as Dennis and Not-Morgana walked past the party. Wait, why was I with Sir Robin? Wouldn’t I have gone with Not-Arthur? And how did I get to this forest anyway.

“Oh, Dennis, forget about freedom. Now I've dropped my mud.” I heard Morgana reply after she smiled and waved at us. It seemed like only yesterday that we were discussing forms of governing. Wait, how long had it been? I honestly don’t know with the amount of time skips and memory gaps that have happened.

Almost immediately after we left the two of them, there were three knights skewered into a tree by a large lance. Sir Robin was looking at it with trepidation, which was actually warranted. I was about to suggest that we turn back when a large booming voice echoed through the woods. What was with this place and loud booming voices?

“Halt! Who art thou?” Said a large three-headed man. He was dressed like a knight. I wondered who he got to make his clothes and chainmail. I don’t know many people who would be willing to make it for a large three-headed man. But people in this alternate reality seem to be more accepting of strange and unusual circumstances.

“He is brave Sir Robin, brave Sir Robin, who--” The minstrels started singing again before they were abruptly cut off by the “brave” Sir Robin.

“Shut up! Um, n-n-nobody really, I'm j-just um, just passing through.” He said, hesitantly. He was obviously trying not to wet his pants. I kind of felt sorry for him, in the minuscule way you feel sorry for someone you didn’t care about. But hey, at least it’s something.

“What do you want?” The three heads said in unison. Now that I know it is a three-headed man the voice is less booming and more three different people speaking at the same time.

“To fight, and--” The minstrel and I sung together, because I could predict what was going to be said next and it was kind of fun.

“Shut up! Um, noo, n-nothing, nothing really -- I, uh, j-j-ust to um, just to p-pass through, good Sir Knight” Said Sir Robin as his eyes shifted back and forth. It had to just be from nervousness, because he wouldn’t actually fight or do anything remotely close to brave.

“I'm afraid not!” The three head said, once more in unison, which I really didn’t understand why they said that.

“No one said you were.” I quickly soothed. I was alone in a wood with a giant three-headed man, who looked like he could bite my head off, and the only protection I had was the world worst and most afraid knight. Pissing of this guy is not something I want to do. I am smart enough to do that, even if I had magic, which I am still not sure works.

“Ah. W-well, actually I am a Knight of the Round Table.” Umm, when did they get famous enough that their name got them access to places? It took a year for the “original” (original as in they were the first knights that Arthur crowned as king) knights of Camelot to get to that point.

“You're a Knight of the Round Table?" All three heads said in unison again. That was getting kind of creepy, which is to be expected, I guess, as the three of them most likely grew up together. Unless they all had the same brain and thus were essentially the same person and would have to speak at the same time.

“I am.” Sir Robin, the worst knight I have ever met and that includes Not-Arthur, said, sounding only slightly more confident than before.

“You’re not fooling me.” I lean over and whisper in Sir Robin’s ear just to see him jump… I should probably stop hanging out with Gwaine when I get back home. If I ever get back home.

“In that case I shall have to kill you.” The head on the far left said stated, as if it were a fact. Sir Robin’s eyes grow three times as big and I wouldn’t be surprised if they were stuck that way. Why is he even still a knight?

“Shall I?” The middle head asked. I don’t know if he was asking if he was the one going to kill Sir Robin or if Sir Robin was going to be killed. To be honest, it kind of sounded like both.

“Oh, I don't think so.” Stated the third, far right head. He kind of sounded like the little angel and your shoulder to the left head’s devil. Where had I heard that analogy? Must have been Gaius.

“I agree with him.” I stated, just because I don’t like feeling like I am left out of a conversation and obviously Sir Robin was not going to help saving either of our butts. Looks like I have to do it by myself. Again. The more I am in this land the more I can see similarities between myself and this world and that was just kind of sad.

“Well, what do I think?” The middle head ask, verbally to himself but probably to the other heads. It was almost like he couldn’t make a decision on his own. And the other two never seem to decide. I wonder how they? He? Gets anything done.

“I think kill him.” Stated the right head. Does all he want to do is kill a person he never even seen before? That doesn’t seem very nice.

“Do you have to kill us? I mean is there anything that is making you kill us?” Neither head spoke for a good period of time.

“I think we should be nice to him.” The right head spoke up, breaking the silence.

“I agree with him. Let’s all be nice and not kill Sir Robin.” From the corner of my eye I saw Sir Robin start to back away from the three heads slowly. I didn’t know what he was up to, but the short experience I have had with me suggests he is planning on leaving me to deal with these three maniacs.

“Oh shut up.” The middle head snapped. It seemed he had finally made a decision.  
“Perhaps-” The left head started before the middle head cut him off.

“And you.” He snapped again. I should probably get out of here. Soon, right?

“Oh, quick get the sword out I want to cut his head off!” Yep, I should probably get out of here.

“Well, you guys can discuss this I will just-” I start to say while backing away slowly. But all three heads glared at me.

“No!” All three head shout at once, before returning to their argument.

“Oh, cut your own head off!” The right head shouted, turning to glare at the left head, through the middle head. It must get really confusing sometimes.

“Yes, do us all a favor!” Oh look, the middle head finally picked a side. That seemed like a first.

“What?” The left head asked, shocked. It just proved the first-time theory that I had. Yay science!

“Yapping on all the time.” Remarked the right head. Hmm… Now seemed like a good time to just slip away.

“You're lucky. You're not next to him.” The middle head said as I slowly back away into the surrounding trees.

“You three just continue to argue…” I say, while not trying to draw attention to myself.

“What do you mean?” Asked the left head.

“and I’ll just be-”

“You snore," responded, looking down his nose towards the left head.

“over here, minding my own business.” I say quietly. I had just reached the first line of trees and Sir Robin was nowhere to be found. Toadface traitor.

“Oh I don't -- anyway, you've got bad breath.” Responded the left head. Their argument had turned into the childish bickering that usually only Arthur and I devolve into. So this is what it is like on the outside. I didn’t realize how annoying it could be. Oh, well. If I stopped doing things because they were annoying I wouldn’t get goblets thrown at my head every other day.

“Well it’s only because you don't brush my teeth.” Brush his teeth? Why would he brush his teeth? At this point I was far enough away that I could duck behind a bush and sneak away.  
“Oh stop bitching and let's go have tea.” The right head demanded, almost as if he had forgotten about me. But after that they were too far away to here clearly.

In the distance I could hear the minstrel singing:

“Brave Sir Robin ran away” I snickered a little at the line. It was nice to see that I wasn’t the only one in this land/dimension/whatever! to enjoy a touch of sarcasm every now and then.

“No!” Sir Robin called out, offended as if he should be offended when someone just pointed out the obvious.

“Bravely ran away away” I tried stifling my laughter as the minstrel continued singing as if Sir Robin had not spoken.

“I didn't!”

“When danger reared its ugly head,  
He bravely turned his tail and fled” I couldn’t hold back my laughter and had to bend forward and clutched my stomach from the pain.

“No!”

“Yes Brave Sir Robin turned about” Oh Goddess, I need to breath.

“I didn't!”

“And gallantly he chickened out  
Bravely taking to his feet”

“I never did!” This is just too funny

“He beat a very brave retreat”

“Oh, lie!”

“Bravest of the brave Sir Robin” I have to remember this. Gwaine would love this story.  
“I never!” Sir Robin’s exclamation was the last thing I heard before I assumed they got far enough away that I couldn’t hear them. I quickly gathered myself before I wondered off in a random direction looking for some sort of civilization.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review. It helps remind me that I have to write this thing.


	9. The Tale of Sir Galahad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late. I'm tired. No time for fancy AN. Sorry.

In my mind another vision started up. A line of priests in that weird drawing style slowly moved up to a long piece of wood and jumped into a pool. However one priest missed and ended up bouncing up to the words “The Tale of Sir Galahad (So that is his name) where he got caught upside down and his robe fell down to reveal his butt. It would have been awkward if not for the fact that I don’t knock and have caught Arthur changing several times. I'm almost surprised that he was capable of it. 

“The Tale of Sir Galahad”, the disembodied voice of the narrator spoke.

“I can still read!” I shouted in my mind.

“Oh Shut the bloody Hell up!” was the only reply.

“No need to use that kind of language,” I grumble under my breath and continue wondering aimlessly around the forest. I really wanted to go home. 

I had been wondering around the forest for at least an hour, possibly more, when I heard loud booming sounds and Angels started singing in the distance. Without something better to do I started to wonder towards the sounds. Something always happens when I hear strange sounds, and what can I say, I was bored.

It started pouring rain and lighting flashed across the sky and I looked down to see Sir Galahad crawling up the hill at my feet. It all looked very dramatic, so I did what I did best. I ruined the mood.

“Hi!” I said brightly as I waved my hand. I only got a small smile before I reached down to help Galahad up. We wondered around the forest together, getting soaked to the bone. If we didn’t at least get out of this storm we were going to get sick.

“Sir Merlin, look! It is the Holy Grail!” Sir Galahad exclaimed, pointing towards a castle in the distance. And sure enough there was a giant floating goblet hovering over the castle. But…

“Sir Galahad, I highly doubt that it is the Holy Grail,” I tried to break the news to the poor boy gently. I did feel sorry for the knight. But his ignored me and stumbled his way towards the castle. When we reached the front gates (oh look, they actually exist) he started pounding on the doors.

“Open the door! Open the door!” He shouted as he continued to pound. I just sighed. That poor boy is just getting his hopes up. Thankfully I am used to knights and kings ignoring my advice and the disastrous consequences that follow. I can take whatever will happen.

“In the name of King Arthur, open the door!” He shouted again before the doors opened with a loud boom and Sir Galahad fell into the room beyond. I walked in behind him. It was safe to say I was not prepared for what lay beyond.

“Hello!” Five women exclaimed all at once. Four were dressed in what looked like Morgana’s night gowns and the fifth was in a white dress and wearing some scarf looking thing that completely covered her head and neck. It was kind of creepy.

“Welcome gentle Sir Knights, welcome to the Castle Anthrax.” The fifth woman spoke. Gesturing with her hands, one of which was holding a torch. Why didn’t she just put the torch in holder on the wall? I got a really bad feeling about this place.

“The Castle Anthrax?” Galahad questioned. What was so bad about that name? I voiced my question aloud and Galahad looked at me like I was crazy.

“Anthrax is a deadly poison,” Oh well, that explains somethings.

“Yes... oh, it's not a very good name? Oh! but we are nice and we shall attend to your every, every need!” Was it just me or did she seemed a little too perky at that. I look behind me to see the storm clearing. Maybe we could just go back. The Grail isn’t here anyways.

“You are the keepers of the Holy Grail?” Galahad asked. The poor boy is so innocent and trusts too easily. I remember when I was that way. Oh the good times when all I had to worry about is when to start harvesting. Sigh.

“The what?” Zoot asked. Yep, the Grail is not here. I doubt anybody would leave it with a bunch of questionably dressed women in a random castle. (Not that women wouldn’t be able to defend the place. They totally could. Defend the place. I hope Gwen doesn’t kill me when I get back. That woman can punch.)

*In another dimension similar to this one but completely different Queen Guinevere was going about her duty running the castle when she swore she heard Merlin’s voice in her head comment "that woman can punch". It was so startling that she had to stop and look around for the errant servant. He had been missing for almost a year and the entire castle had nearly given up finding him. She knew she shouldn’t expect to find him, but some part of her was hoping. Maybe she should ask Gaius about it. He would know what to make of it.*

“The Grail -- it is here?” Galahad asked, turning a statement into a question. They really seemed to do that a lot here.

“Oh, but you are tired, and you must rest awhile. Midget! Crepper!” The woman spoke and two of the night dress wearing women quickly walked up to the woman. Are the seriously named Midget and Creeper? We should really get out of here.

“Yes, oh Zoot!” I think the woman’s name is Zoot. I’m not quite sure. I shuffle forward and grab Galahad’s arm.

“We should really get out of here. I have a terrible feeling about these women,” I whisper to the knight, but he just shook his head and turned his attention back to the women. Why does nobody trust my feelings?!? My feelings are always right!

“Prepare a bed for our guest,” Zoot? told the other two, who looked way too happy at the thought of making beds.

“Oh thank you thank you thank you--” Their words only confirmed my suspicions.

“Away away vile temptress! The beds here are warm and soft -- and very, very big.” I grab Sir Galahad’s arm again and start to pull him toward the door. He apparently was having none of that because he shook my arm off and walked further inside.

“Sorry, but we really should be going,” I mumble as I turn but the door had already been closed and my escape route cut off.

“Well, look, I-I-uh—” Galahad stammered at the rather plain women to be completely honest. Although my scale might be slightly skewed. Surpisingly, most people in Camelot are beautiful. I wonder why beautiful people are just attracted to Camelot. Or are they attracted to me? Maybe Gaius knows.

“What are your names, handsome knights?” The older woman asked, seeming to flirt, although very badly. I just wasn’t into her. She just simply wasn’t my type physically or mentally. 

“Sir Galahad... the Chaste,” He said as he kept his shield between him and the crazy woman I’m pretty sure was trying to feel him up. What is with people in this place? I am half tempted to give up this stupid quest and try to find my own way home. 

“Umm, Merlin.”

“Mine is Zoot... just Zoot. Oh, but come!” The older woman stated as she grabbed Galahad’s arm and started to pull him down a dark stone hallway (But that might just be because it is night). 

“Look, please! In God's name, show me the Grail!” Galahad demanded. Really, you would think he would realize that the Grail isn’t here. Of course, put any “chaste” man in a castle full of young women who obviously want to be the man and said man tends not to think properly. Not that I know from experience. Arthur and I have yet to come across a castle like that.

“Oh, you have suffered much! You are delirious!” Zoot said, still pulling Galahad by the arm. I keep a look out for a possible escape path, but I have yet to see a window, or opening of any kind. What is with these people? Do they take offence to windows?

“L-look, I have seen it! It is here, in the--” That poor boy. Ah, I remember when I was that innocent. Then I came to Camelot. Sigh, the good old days.

“Sir Galahad! You would not be so ungallant as to refuse our hospitality,”

“Well, I-I-uh—”

“Oh, I am afraid our life must seem very dull and quiet compared to yours. We are but eight score young blondes and brunettes, all between sixteen and nineteen and a half, cut off in this castle with no one to protect us! Oh, it is a lonely life -- bathing, dressing, undressing, making exciting underwear (Gwaine is never allowed to come here).... We are just not used to handsome knights. Nay, nay, come, come, you may lie here,” The woman said as she put the torch in a holder and walked in to a bare room with a single bed in it. She pushed Galahad onto the bed and started to feel up his thigh. She was very creepy.

“Oh, but you are wounded!” She exclaimed. Wait, what! When did Galahad become wounded? He didn’t act like he was wounded. He was walking fine and there were no signs of pain on his face. I felt the need to punch him. 

“What!?! Why didn’t you tell me?” I exclaimed as I tried to move toward the knight. But Zoot effortlessly blocked my advances. I pushed down that part of me that wanted to throw the woman across the room. I didn’t think it would help in this situation.

“No, no -- i-it's nothing!” Galahad stammered as he tried to get out of the bed,

“Oh, but you must see the doctors immediately! No, no, please, lie down,” Zoot physically forced him to lay down on the bed. She, then, clapped her hands twice and two more young girls entered the room and stood by the bed.

“Ah. What seems to be the trouble?” The first doctor asked, which was a good question. What was the trouble?

“They're doctors?” Galahad asked, sounding slightly worried, which greatly worried me. He didn’t have any street-smarts and he seemed to think this situation was fishy. 

“Uh, they've had a basic medical training, yes,” That meant that we were all going to die. The last time I had someone who had “a basic medical training” do any kind of medicine on me I had warts in places that I didn’t know existed. I am never letting Arthur touch Gaius’ potions again!

“B-but--” Ah, he seemed to be getting the idea. But he never got to finish his complaint. Now that I think about it. He never got to finish his complaints. 

“Oh, come come, you must try to rest! Doctor Piglet, Doctor Winston, practice your art,” She said and then she left the room. I gulped.

“Try to relax,” The first doctor spoke. I think she was piglet. She climbed onto the bed as the second doctor pulled me on. I had a bad feeling about this. And those women were surprisingly strong.

“Are you sure that's necessary?” Galahad stammered out, not yet fully understanding the situation.”

“We must examine you,” The “doctor” said as she continued to undue his belt. The other doctor (Winston?) began to do the same to me.

“There's nothing wrong with that!” Galahad exclaimed and the girls tried to undress us. I would have supported his argument if I wasn’t too busy trying to keep my own clothes on. These girls sure were determined.

“Please -- we are doctors,” The doctor stated like that would make everything acceptable. I don’t even know what a doctor was!

“Get off the bed! I am sworn to chastity!” Galahad shouted as he scrambled off the bed, pushing the girls away. However, he only made it to a sitting position before he had to stop to gather his sword and shield. 

"Back to your bed!" Galahad's nurse exclaimed. 

“Torment me no longer! I have seen the Grail!” I finally managed to escape my doctor and was clear on the other side of the room, before I took stock of the situation. I never was one to leave someone behind.

“There's no grail here,” The only doctor who spoke (Piglet?) confirmed my assumptions. Because really, who would hide the Grail in a castle full of unarmed girls who acted like they would bed any man they came across. It just wasn’t safe.

“I have seen it, I have seen it. I have seen—” Galahad stated determinedly as he escaped from the bed and made his way through the curtained entrance that the two “doctors” came from. He cut himself off when he found that he walked in to a room filled with young girls, dressed in bedclothes, some of which were sitting in a tub full of water and looked to be washing themselves.

“Hello,” The girls called out, in some mix of surprise and flirtation.

“Oh-” Galahad gulped, and slowly walked through the room. I followed him, reluctantly. I swear. I was in no way staring at the scandalously dress women.

“Hello,” Several of the girls called one after another, pawing at our clothes. I am really glad Gwaine isn’t here.

"Hello! Merlin? Is that you?" A very drunk Gwaine stumbled out from the washing girls. Apparently I spoke too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwaine!! Sorry this scene got cut in two. It was just getting so long.


	10. It’s not here!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm raising the rating on this due to talk of sexual content. It is nothing explicit or anything. It's just what was in the movie. I'm just being on the safe side.

Correction: Gwaine isn’t as drunk as he is pretending. I have been around him long enough to know when he is pretending to be drunk or actually drunk. And to know that it is really hard to get him drunk. That man has the fortitude of a dragon. Trust me, it is harder than you think. I’ve tried.

“Merlin!” Gwaine yelled loudly in my ear as he draped his body over mine. I already had a horrible day/week/I don’t even know how long it has been. I wasn’t up for Gwaine’s act.

“Gwaine, stop pretending,” I commanded as I ducked beneath his hold. He pouted a little before he stopped stumbling around like an idiot. Galahad tried desperately to get away from the women and stumbled toward one of the doors.

“Who’s he?” Gwaine asked as he watched Galahad being accosted by women. In my opinion he seemed to look longingly. Although I don’t know why, he was obviously here first. He would have gotten plenty of time with the women. I shudder at the thought.

“Sir Galahad,” I mutter as Galahad finally made his way to the other side of the room. The girls gave up on him and moved to paw at Gwaine. Thankfully they ignored me and Gwaine was more than happy to be pawed at. Why was I the only man to see through the advances of women or at least not be distracted by them? Well there was that one time with Cara, but in my defense I learned from that experience.

“Zoot!” Galahad cried as the woman appeared on the other side of the door the knight had opened. Although there was something not right with the woman…

“No, I am Zoot's identical twin sister, Dingo.” Ah, that explains it.

“Oh, well, excuse me, I--” Galahad stutters. That poor boy is going to have nightmares about this forever. I sigh as I start to pull Gwaine away from the fawning girls who are trying to take off his clothes, despite his protests.

“Where are you going?” That was a good question because I’m pretty sure that corridor goes further into the castle, not out of it. 

“I seek the Grail! I have seen it, here in this castle!” Galahad but be even more thick than Arthur ever was, both Arthurs.

“It’s not here!” I shout and am promptly ignored. And where did Gwaine go? Bloody hell! Now I have to go wading through the women again to find him.

“No! Oh, no! Bad, bad Zoot!” How are these people even still alive? If this is Destiny, then I quit. I do not want to live in a world like this. Ever. I would rather live in a world than without magic than this one. 

“What is it?” Galahad asked. Somebody kill me now.

“Somebody kill me now.”

“Oh, wicked, bad, naughty Zoot! She has been setting alight to our beacon, which, I just remembered, is grail-shaped. It's not the first time we've had this problem.” Then why do they even have it?

“It's not the real Grail?” I wonder if I can kill myself in this world. Or do I have to be in my world? Can I even kill myself? Kilgharrah said that one would need a sword forged in dragon’s fire to kill me, but if I kill myself with my own magic, would that work? Would my magic even let me try? How would I test that?

“Oh, wicked, bad, naughty, evil Zoot! Oh, she is a naughty person, and she must pay the penalty” Dingo started before she turned toward the center of the room, “Do you think this scene should have been cut? We were worried when the boys were writing it, but now, we’re glad! It’s better than some of the previous scenes, I think.” … Ummm?

“Do you think she has had some of Gaius’ special mushrooms?” Gwaine whispered. It seemed he has returned from where ever he was. 

“At least ours was better visually.” Said the left head. Wait! When did I get back to the forest?

“Who’s that?” Gwaine asked. I was too preoccupied staring at the right head.

“Wait a minute! Are you Sir Galahad?” I asked the right head as his eyes went wide. The only reason I didn’t notice before was of my limited experience with the knight. But now it was quite obvious. But before he could reply, Gwaine and I were suddenly in a field with Dennis and Not-Morgana.

“Well, at least ours was committed. It wasn't just a string of pussy jokes.” Umm… now that I think about it…

“Sir Galahad? Why are you Dennis as well? What, do you have identity issues?” Suddenly an old man in a cave appeared and told us to “get on with it”.

“Yes, get on with it,” Said a strange man in a horned hat and a small army repeated it.

“Oh, I am enjoying this scene!” Dingo replied. Oh yay, I’m finally back where I started, kind of. I really wish I was back home. I'm not randomly transported to unknown places. Well, at least when I don't mess up a spell. So most of the time I am not transported to unknown places.

“Get on with it!” I give up!

“Did I have some of Gaius’ special mushrooms?” Gwaine asked and I really didn’t know. That is actually something to consider.

“Oh, wicked, wicked Zoot.” Dingo started as she moved into the room, “she must pay the penalty and here in Castle Anthrax, we have but one punishment for setting alight the grail-shaped beacon. You must tie her down on a bed and spank her!” Wait what? A spanking? What was she five?

“A spanking! A spanking!” Is it me, or do those girls sound like they enjoy spankings too much.

“You must spank her well. And after you have spanked her, you may deal with her as you like. And then, spank me,” Dingo didn’t sound too upset about the spanking.

“And spank me. And me. And me.” I really don’t know how to deal with this. Maybe Gwaine can tell me if this much enjoyment of pain is normal.

“Yes, yes, you must give us all a good spanking!” I’m just going to pretend this isn’t happening.

“A spanking! A spanking!” Not happening. I am just going to find the way out of here. Oh look, a door.

“And after the spanking, the oral sex.” And now I’m blushing. These women were bold. Not even Morgana was this bold. And she wasn’t bashful about her attentions ever.

“Oral sex! Oral sex!” The girls cried as they moved in on us. Great! Now I can’t escape. And hands are wondering!

“Well, I could stay a BIT longer,” Galahad conceded as he let himself be pulled away by the girls.

“No, Galahad don’t! We have to leave!” I screamed, trying to fend off my own girls, unsuccessfully. And hands are down my pants! 

“Sir Galahad! Sir Merlin!” Lancelot burst into the room with two other knights. Rescue! And I’m not a knight! Why can’t anyone understand this? Hands!

“Oh, hello.” Sir Galahad is obviously under his spell. He has to be! Oh, yay the hands are gone!

“Quick!” Not-Lancelot commanded, much to two knights dismay.

“What?” Galahad asked. I had finally disentangled myself from the women and started pulling Gwaine along.

“Quick!” Not-Lancelot repeated, pushing Galahad towards the door they had come from as I pulled Gwaine by the arm

“Why?” Gwaine complained.

“You're in great peril!” Note to self: teach Not-Lancelot to answer questions clearly and concisely. It can’t be that hard. I managed to teach Kilgharrah.

“No, he isn’t” Dingo exclaimed as she tried to reach for Galahad only to be pushed back by Not-Lancelot.

“Silence, foul temptress!” Not-Lancelot raised his sword to attach and I continued to pull the unwilling knights towards the door.

“Now look, it's not important.” If both my hands weren’t occupied pulling men I would smack him over the head. Peril is important, very important. I know from experience. For example: not-peril is going to the market; Peril is going on a hunting trip with Arthur.

“Quick! Come on and we'll cover your escape!” Not-Lancelot commanded as he helped me push him along.

“Look, I'm fine!” Galahad exclaimed.

“Merlin, old friend. Are you really going to deprive me of these beautiful women?” Gwaine tried to charm me. Unluckily for him, I became immune to his charms months ago.

“Come on!” Not-Lancelot yelled as he pushed the two forward again.

“Think about it Gwaine. A hundred and fifty seemingly defenseless women live alone in a castle. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?” I try to reason with him.

“No.” He is getting band from the taverns when we get back home. And don’t think I can’t do it. I have connections that aren’t Arthur.

“Now look, I can tackle this lot single-handed!” Sir Galahad insisted. For being chaste he is putting up one hell of a fight. I expected this from Gwaine but Galahad? He seemed like he was resisting it.

“Yes! Let him tackle us single-handed!” Of course she would make that sound inappropriate. Thankfully Gwaine has been conditioned to follow my orders (I really didn’t do that on purpose. It just sort of happened. It’s the same with all of the knights) or I would never be able to get the man out of there.

“Yes! Tackle us single-handed!” I almost gave up on that man, but Not-Lancelot seemed determined.

“No, Sir Galahad, come on!” Not-Lancelot insisted as he continued to push the “chaste” knight easily. I really didn’t know what these women’s goal was, but I was sure it wasn’t good.

“No, really, honestly, we can go back and handle this lot easily!” Gwaine agreed with Galahad, as he managed to stop the forward progress. 

“Oh, yes, they can handle us easily.” Dingo exclaimed as she reached toward Galahad again to a chorus of the girls “yes, yes!” How long was this hallway? It should end soon.

“Wait! We can defeat them! There's only a hundred and fifty of them!” Galahad tried one last time before we managed to get him moving out the door. 

“Yes, yes, he'll beat us easily, we haven't a chance.” But it was too late and we quickly shut the door. It closed with a resounding boom.

“We were in the nick of time, you were in great peril.” Not-Lancelot explained, once they were safely outside. Sadly, the spell did not seem to wear off yet.

“I don't think I was.” Galahad insisted. I stopped feeling sad for the boy and now mostly felt annoyed. And I still don’t get a thank you. No appreciation.

“We are knights. We were fine.” Gwaine added. This time I did smack them both over the head. I was starting to feel like Arthur. Now I know how he feels. How does he deal with all of the knights?

“Yes you were, you were in terrible peril.” Not-Lancelot said as he started dragging Galahad away. I mirrored him with Gwaine. Wow, even in this world/land/universe Lancelot and I work well together. Huh.

“Look, let me go back in there and face the peril, Galahad begged.

“Yeah, Merlin. What would Princess think of me if I told him I ran away from a bunch of girls?” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

“No, it's too perilous.” Lancelot replied.

“And don’t tell him,” I continued.

“Look, we are knights, we are supposed to get as much peril as I can.” Galahad pointed out.

“Just think of this as a quest,” Gwaine told me. I hate quests. Nothing good ever happens during quests.

“And what happened on the last quest that Arthur went on, he almost died. Again!” I pointed out as we rounded the corner of the castle.

“We've got to find the Holy Grail. Come on!” Lancelot pointed out as he continued to drag an unwilling Galahad away. That was a good idea. Galahad was very determined to find the grail. The only problem was…

“Well, I don’t have to find this Grail. I don’t even know what it is,” Gwaine complained like a petulant child. God, he was worse than Arthur sometimes.

“It’s the Holy Grail,” One of the other knights with Lancelot explained. 

“It’s our way back home,” I explained.

“But, what if I don’t want to go back home. So help me Goddess, if Gwaine doesn’t stop acting like a child I will tie him to the chandelier in the great hall for the Knights and Arthur to find.

“What about that bar maid you’ve been courting?” I try to entice him. He brightened and this and stopped struggling. I finally let go of his arm and the two of us started walking like normal people.

“Well, let me have just a little bit of peril?” Galahad begged. Unfortunately, he was not as easy to convince as Gwaine. 

“No, it's unhealthy.” Lancelot insisted. Now that was a little extreme. A little peril isn’t that bad. What was he, Galahad’s father?

“Bet you're gay!” Galahad complained. That retort made no sense. Why would it matter if he was gay or not.

“No, I'm not.” Lancelot replied after a suspiciously long pause.

“Is it me, or did Lancelot take a long time to answer?” Gwaine whispered at me. I could just roll my eyes.


	11. I give up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know short chapter this week. Really short chapter. I just feel like the Knight Who Say Nee really need their own chapter. They deserve it. I also kind of need to write them. Anyways, onto the story.

After we had successfully rescued Galahad and Gwaine the disembodied voice spoke up as that giant book appeared again. It was very nostalgic, with the exception that Gwaine was here.

“Sir Lancelot had saved Sir Galahad from almost certain temptation,” the voice said as Gwaine looked confused and I only shrugged. I had given up trying to explain what happens in this world. It just isn’t worth it.

“Sir Gwaine and Sir Galahad, thank you very much,” Gwaine corrected with an indignant huff. He was never one to be left out of anything, even trouble.

“Not another one of you,” The disembodied voice complained before correcting his mistake. “Sir Lancelot had saved Sir Galahad and Sir Gwaine from almost certain temptation.”

“Hey! I was there too,” I reminded the voice, because for once I can get credit for something I did without getting burned alive. Yay me!

“Some of the knights saved some of the other knights from almost certain temptation,” The disembodied voice growled. The disembodied voice apparently decided that blanket statements would fix all of his problems. Sadly the disembodied voice was wrong. Disembodied voices is really annoying to say constantly. I wondered if I can shorten that. Maybe DV? I don’t know. I can’t just go with Voice it would be too confusing. I’ll figure it out later.

“But Merlin isn’t a knight.” Of course Gwaine would decide to point out my lack of knighthood. Why was I the only without a knighthood? Oh, yeah, I cannot use a sword to save my life. Literally. And my magic doesn’t count because I can’t tell anyone about it. Stupid Destiney. Stupid dragons who insist that I don’t tell Arthur about my magic. What does Kilgharrah know about that anyway? Yeah, so he knows the future. But can he really know how Arthur would react?

“That’s it! I give up!” DV yelled. Yeah I’m liking DV. It’s short and cannot be mistaken as another person or disembodied voice. Two hair hands (or were they paws. It was hard to tell beyond the dark gray fur covering them) closed the book with a slam and Gwaine and I found ourselves in strange castle.

 

Elsewhere:

Scene 24 finds Sir Bedemir and King Arthur (now this is King Arthur from Monty Python and the Holy Grail, or Not-Arthur as Merlin calls him. Not to be confused with King Arthur from BBC’s Merlin. They are two completely different characters. If Merlin’s Arthur were here, he would most probably have a heart attack at the level of crazy and die and then what would Destiney do?) in a small shack in the middle of a set of ruins of possibly a castle. It’s hard to tell.

“Ah, hee he he ha!” An old man, who beneath all the makeup looks remarkably similar to Patsy, in that he is Patsy, which can be confusing because Patsy is also in this scene outside the shack, laughs manically. 

“And this enchanter of whom you speak, he has seen the grail?” King Not-Arthur asks over the laughers which does not stop.

“Ha ha he he he he!”

“Where does he live? Old man, where does he live?” King Not-Arthur tries again after sharing a look with Sir Bedemir. 

“He knows of a cave, a cave which no man has entered,” The old man informs cryptically (although it should be noted that he is less cryptic than The Great Dragon, Kilgharrah from Merlin), after he calmed from his manic laughter.

“And the Grail... The Grail is there?” King Not-Arthur asked, because really, that is all that he came for. It should be noted that this narrator doesn’t think that King Not-Arthur will get any relevant information during this scene.

“Very much danger, for beyond the cave lies the Gorge of Eternal Peril, which no man has ever crossed,” The old man says, completely ignoring the question, because that would be too easy. I mean, it is so obvious that the Grail is in-”

“But the Grail! Where is the Grail!?” _King Arthur cuts off “this narrator” before she can be uncouth enough as to reveal the plot of the movie before it happens._ Also Arthur’s stupid enough to run right over someone who is about to give him the answers of his question. Both of them.

“Seek you the Bridge of Death,” Says the old man because of course the old wise, prophetic men can’t speak like normal people. That would make them too normal.

“The Bridge of Death, which leads to the Grail?” King Not-Arthur eggs the old man on. (Although if you ask this narrator he looks a little afraid of the man’s words. Because seriously bridge of death? Could you get any more cliché?)

“Hee hee ha ha!” The old man just laughs manically again as he and his shack fade out and King Not-Arthur and Sir Bedemir find themselves in a forest around a campfire. They looked shocked and slightly scared at the disappearance. And they should because otherwise they really should get checked out by a psychiatrist or something. Well, they should anyways. I mean, they saw God floating in the sky as a creepy cartoon figure and they didn’t run away screaming. That just isn’t normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really don't know where the second half of this chapter came from, it just kind of happened. That happens more than I like to admit. It scares me sometimes.
> 
> Review and hit that amazing button called Kudos. It makes me happy and reminds me I need to write.


	12. No, Gwaine, you cannot have a pet unicorn!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now for the part that maybe some of you have been waiting for... The Knights-Who-Say-Nee.

So Not-Lancelot decided, in all of his infinite wisdom, that we should all separate and look for the grail in pairs. Which would be fine, if I wasn’t sure that the only people capable of defending themselves were Gwaine, Not-Arthur, and myself. On the bright side, that applies to everyone else in this dimension as well.

There was a problem with Not-Lancelot’s plan: Gwaine.

“Come on Merlin! Why can’t we go look back at that castle? Even Sir Galahad said that he had seen it there. Or a tavern. We should go look in a tavern. They always have the best gossip in taverns.” Gwaine moaned for the ninth time in the past three hours. I sigh, again, and try to resist the urge to run him through with his own sword. 

“The Grail wasn’t in Castle Anthrax and no we cannot search in a tavern. I am not in the mood to carry your drunk ass around this crazy world. How did you get here anyways?” It was a question I have been meaning to ask him but kept being distracted by groping girls whose hands wandered where they shouldn’t. I shudder at the memory.

“Well, I was going to see if you wanted to go to the tavern with me. I really don’t know why Arthur thinks you’re a drunk. You never go to the taverns, even when he claims you are. I should really talk to him about that. Anyway I was coming into your room and I heard you muttering something under your breath and I saw your eyes flash gold and then I was in some random forest. I just walked until I met those lovely ladies.”

Well, bloody… I didn’t know Gwaine came into the room. I should probably pay more attention to my surroundings before I preform spells. Oops. Well hopefully Gwaine doesn’t put two and two together and get Magic. But Gwaine was always one of the more perceptive knights…

“Can’t you just do another spell to get us back?” Gwaine asked, as if he were asking me for more wine. And I didn’t just trip on twigs. Ok, I did, but it was completely on purpose and I am sticking to that story. Don’t judge me. (And no Arthur, I am not a klutz!)

*In another dimension King Arthur was working on paperwork, trying desperately to ignore the silence of his new, competent servant. He was just about to dip his quill into the ink well when he swore he heard Merlin exclaim that he wasn’t a klutz. He was so shocked that he knocked over the ink well and only George’s quick reflexes saved the papers. God, he was going crazy. He was going to see Gaius about this. It was starting to worry him.*

“What spell? Why would I know any spells?” I asked desperately, already knowing it wasn’t going to work.

“Merlin, old friend, I’m not as oblivious as Princess. Plus that man at the bridge to the Fisher Kingdom said there was Strength, Courage, and Magic. I’m not magic. I highly doubt Arthur is magic. That left one person left: you,” I sighed. Why did it have to be Gwaine?

“Are you going to tell Arthur?” I asked. I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes so I just looked at the leaves that littered the ground. Gwaine shrugged.

“It’s not my secret to tell. I do think you should tell Princess though,” I didn’t reply. I really couldn’t tell Arthur yet. He wasn’t ready for that information. Plus there is the fact that I wasn’t in a completely different world that he was, literally. 

“So, _Mer_ lin?” Gwaine started talking in that tone that usually meant that he was trying to get me to participate in a trick that would land us both into the stocks.

“Gwaine?” I asked, hesitant because the last time he got that tone of voice Arthur ended up covered in chicken feathers and syrup and it was potato season and the town children had really good aim.

“Have you met any unicorns?” Gwaine asked, trying to look innocent with big eyes and blinking quickly. But it just made him look demented.

“No, Gwaine, you cannot have a pet unicorn,” I chastise. And why was I chastising Gwaine? I’m supposed to be a prankster! 

“Ok, how about a-”

“I’m not getting you a never ending mug of ale,” I cut Gwaine off before he could even finish that sentence.

“But what about-”

“And I’m not getting you some of Gaius’ special mushrooms so you can spike some poor guy’s drink,” Gwaine is the reason why the mushrooms are well hidden and under lock and key. He keeps trying to get people to eat them.

“You’re no fun, Merlin,” Gwaine pouts as we continue walking. It wasn’t long before we came across Not-Arthur, Patsy, Bedemir, and some other squire.

“Sir Merlin!” Not-Arthur shouted as they approached us. Gwaine looked at me as if I was crazy as I started bashing my head into a nearby tree.

“Hello, Not-Arthur. What do you want?” I greeted, because believe it or not, my mother did teach me to be polite. I just choose not to be. 

Umm, Merlin’s not a knight,” Gwaine decided to inform the entire group, “He’s a sorcerer.”

“I’m not a sorcerer,” I corrected. Goddess, don’t I know it. I can’t tell you how many lectures about the differences between warlocks and sorcerers from both Gaius and Kilgharrah I had to live through. Trust me, you don’t want to know. I look over to see Gwaine look at me like I just killed his favorite pet. I just know he was going to go boasting that he was friends with a powerful sorcerer. I don’t know how that man manages to keep his status as nobility a secret. Not-Arthur and associates just looked confused. 

“I was born with Magic. The proper term is warlock,” I explain further and Gwaine gets an evil glint in his eye and I am half afraid of whichever poor guy he gets his hands on. The other half will be glad when it’s not me. Thankfully Not-Arthur saves the day.

“I’m pretty sure you’re a knight,” Arthur said, not realizing the disaster he just averted. 

“No, I’m really not. I think I would know if I was a knight,” I reply as we pick our way through a progressively darker forest. What’s with this place and stereotypical dark forests? At least we got attack in bright, normal forests just as much as dark scary ones.

“No, because I knighted you in Camelot,” Not-Arthur insisted as he “rode” along. Great, now Gwaine’s hop/skipping. Of course he would start hop-skipping. 

“No, you didn’t. We never went to Camelot because of those weird blokes that were singing and dancing. It was unanimously agreed that we didn’t need to go there. And then God sent us on this stupid quest and here we are,” I explain slowly to help get it through his small brain. Thank you Arthur for giving me experience in these kinds of situations. Not-Arthur nodded and returned to watching the forest and was instantly scared. Which really, I have been in scarier forests than this.

As we moved, several knight failed at sneaking through the forest in the distance. We continued despite their presence until we nearly ran into a really tall dude who kind of looked like a really tall version of Sir Galahad. I should really talk to Not-Arthur about his knight who seems to have developed a really bad case of multiple-soul-disorder.

“Nee! Nee! Nee! Nee!” The head knight and the rest of the other knights said, if it could really be called said. It wasn’t a word that I was aware of and I am near fluent in two different languages. But said is the closest term I can come up with.

“Who are you?” Not-Arthur asked. I feel so proud. He finally asked someone’s name when first meeting someone, well except for Gwaine. My little, annoying boy that I would rather do without is finally growing up. Now I just need to get back home. Something I actually care about!

“We are the Knights-Who-Say... Nee!” I failed to repress the need to slap my face. What is with this world and coming up with really obvious titles? Why couldn’t they go with something like the Knights of Ragnarok? That is a much cooler sounding name.

“No! Not the Knights Who-Say-Nee!” Not-Arthur exclaimed with fear, as if that was a name someone would admit too unless it was true.

“The same!” The head knight exclaimed proudly. Ah, pride: it kicks some many people in the butt on their way out the door.

“Who are they?” Sir Bedemir’s small voice called over the repeated “nee’s” that the enemy? knights were shouting. I really wasn’t sure what was going on. But that’s not new.

“We are the keepers of the sacred words: Nee, Pen, and Nee-wom!” The head knight’s explanation echoed slightly in the quiet forest.

“Then shouldn’t you be the Knights-Who-Say-Nee-Pen-And-Nee-wom?” Gwaine asked. It was a good question. Or perhaps they only said nee. But they had just said pen and nee-wom. They don’t make logical sense, but then, nothing in this world did.

“Those who hear them seldom live to tell the tale!” Not-Arthur stage whispered, which I found to be kind of funny. Everyone just ignored Gwaine question. But I was beginning to suspect that they are all running on some script which a five year old or a philosopher wrote. 

“The Knights Who Say Nee demand a sacrifice!” The head knight demanded. Not-Arthur look scared and Gwaine looked wary. Given the number of people that have tried to sacrifice him, wary is an accepted and dignified response. I will never understand why everyone wants to sacrifice Gwaine? Or why everyone seems to think that the Triple Goddess wants Gwaine as a sacrifice. I asked her once; she wants nothing to do with him.

“Sacrifice? Why is it always a sacrifice?” Gwaine muttered under his breath.

“Relax, it is probably something stupid, like a stick.” I sooth him as he looked ready to bolt at the first sigh that he would be chosen.

“Knights of Nee, we are but simple travelers who seek the enchanter who lives beyond these woods.” Arthur explained, which was just kind of stupid. I mean I wasn’t lying when I said it was going to be something like a stick. Why not just give them whatever they want and move on. It would be so much easier.

“Nee! Nee! Nee! Nee!” The head knights and his underlings started shouting and Not-Arthur and party started cringing back and acting as if they were in pain. Gwaine just looked confused and I gave him a look that simply said “go with it”.

“We shall say 'nee' again to you if you do not appease us,” The head knight informed us after he cut off the other knights. Which really, if that is all that they were going to do, then I’m just going to pass them and let the others deal with this latest batch of crazy.

“Well, what is it you want?” Arthur finally asked, which he really should have done in the first place.

“We want... a shrubbery!” The head knight replied complete with a dramatic pause. There was even a dramatic chord played from some guy poorly hidden in a tree behind everybody. It was kind of something that Uther would have said back when he went crazy. 

“A what?” Arthur asked as if he never heard of a shrubbery. This is coming from the guy who makes up words like coconuts.

“It’s a stick,” I explained. They really had to be that predictable. 

“NO! A shrubbery!” The head guard exclaimed, indignantly.

“Sorry, a stick with leaves.” 

“Nee! Nee!” The knights shouted again and I just dragged Gwaine past the head knight and further into the woods.

“Please, please! No more! We shall find a shrubbery.”  
“You must return here with a shrubbery or else you will never pass through this wood alive!” Not-Arthur begged at the same time that the head knights tried to warn us off.

“What are you going to do? Shout nee at us?” I will eventual learn not to poke the sleeping lion. Just, not today.

“Stop! Only the Knights-Who-Say-Nee are allowed to speak the sacred words!” Which was really stupid because Not-Arthur had said nee twice in the past conversation.

“So we are allowed to say the Knights-Who-Say-Nee, but not nee?” I clarify in hopes that it would knock the knights out of their craziness. I should have known that it wouldn’t work. That would be too easy.

“Of course.” I just threw my hands into the air and gave up on this world. I don’t know why I lasted this long.

“O Knights of Nee, you are just and fair, and we will return with a shrubbery.” Not-Arthur stated, as if our exchange never happened at all, which really just confirmed the script theory.

“One that looks nice,” The head knight demanded, because really he had to get worse.

“Of course,” Not-Arthur said, as if that was completely reasonable.

“And not too expensive,” The head knight added on, just before the knights moved to leave.

“Yes,” Not-Arthur soothed. Really, beggars can’t be choosers. And the head knight was pretty much begging.

“Now... go!” The head knight shouted, pointing in the opposite direction, and we all when our marry way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review. Push that lovely Kudos's button. Hope you liked. Yoda, yada, yada

**Author's Note:**

> So that was the first chapter. Yes I know Merlin is snarky. But have you met the guy. He is just full of snark. And why is Arthur trying to convince Merlin that evil, killer rabbits are real. Well you'll just have to find out. Eventually... as soon as I figure out why... I hate it when my stories just add plot points with out telling me about them first and then leave me to figure out why they are there in the first place.
> 
> *I actually looked up a migratory bird large enough to carry a coconut. You should be proud.
> 
> Oh, and please review. It is how I know how to get better.


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